


It's Gonna Be Forever [Or It's Gonna Go Down In Flames]

by thesockmonster



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Drunk Sex, Forced Marriage, Infidelity, M/M, Mpreg, Rimming, Rough Sex, general all-around unhappiness, implied depression, unwarned pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-27 05:29:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 65,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8389084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesockmonster/pseuds/thesockmonster
Summary: There are a lot of things Jongdae wants out of life.  Lu Han isn't one of them.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been in the works for two years. I wrote 50k of it for Nano in '14, and I've just now put the finishing touches on it. I'd like to give a HUGE thank you to Lonio who held my hand through some of the tougher scenes, and was there as my backbone to push through to the end. Also, thank you to Amy who stepped in to beta this monster. And, as always, thank you to my tlist. You guys are the most supportive shits ever. I love you all!
> 
> This fic is unlike anything I've written or posted before. Please be kind. ^^

It’s a quiet night, the streets devoid of traffic and the hour late enough that most people are already tucked inside their homes to stay until morning. Rows and rows of identical houses line the road, each one a carbon copy of the next - a series of white edged in green that, when seen from the right angle, look like a row of dominoes poised to be tipped over at any moment. Even their vehicles are the same - all white, compact, resting on the pads along the driveway to charge.

Jongdae’s never liked the uniformity of the neighborhood. It unsettles him and he keeps his eyes fixed downward as he makes his way toward his house. The hexagon pattern of the solar panels that make up the road catch the light that occasionally spills from a window, and Jongdae hops from panel to panel mindlessly, simply enjoying the warm air and the silence around him. It’s a rare gift.

Ten blocks from here - back in the bustling hubbub of the city - is a man sitting at a table for two, probably beginning to worry because Jongdae had gotten up in the middle of their dinner to use the bathroom and never came back. And it’s not that Jongdae is an inherently cruel person, but being set-up on date after date with people he has nothing in common with has worn down his patience and he’s through with it.

He knows his parents mean well, and it’s important for Jongdae to find someone to eventually marry and immediately begin having children with, but it feels like they aren’t even trying to find anyone who’s compatible with him. It doesn’t help that Jongdae is the independent type, a man who is still struggling to find himself amidst a society that presses for impersonal marriages and turns people like him into faceless breeding factories.

He’s lucky to have the freedom he does, being the second son of a well-liked career politician. Instead of having someone chosen for him flat out, he has a modicum of input, but it’s not going to last for much longer. Jongdae is nearly twenty-one, a full two years older than most people when they marry. The college Jongdae attends is full of young parents, most of them opting to call in to their classes with a holographic feed in their chair instead of physically attending. Jongdae, however, prefers to brush shoulders with real people, have conversations that don’t include the low hum of a hologram, eat with someone he can steal bites from.

_A man out of his time_ , Jongdae’s brother, Joonmyun, always jokes. And maybe he’s right.

Jongdae sighs, hands deep in his pockets as he finally makes it to the right building. There are no lights on inside which at least means his parents won’t be waiting, frowns on their faces as they question why Jongdae is back so early and what was so wrong with this one. It’s the same song and dance every time. Jongdae thinks about the man, _boy_ really, that he’d left behind. He’d been nice enough, but a complete bore. If he wanted boring, he’d ask Joonmyun to recite one of his law texts.

A press of Jongdae’s palm to the scanner opens the door and he walks inside, toeing off his shoes to leave by the door atop the others. It’s silent, but Jongdae is used to an empty house. With his father ensconced in politics and his dad following to be supportive, Jongdae was often left to his own devices, especially after Joonmyun got married and moved out.

The light in the kitchen comes on when Jongdae steps inside and he immediately recoils, wishing he’d been left in the darkness. “Don’t you have your own place to do that?” he shrieks, screwing his eyes shut before peeking them open a moment later, grimacing.

On top of the kitchen table - the place where Jongdae _eats_ \- is Joonmyun and his large husband, Yifan, in a disturbing state of undress. Jongdae sincerely wishes he hadn’t noticed Yifan’s hand slipping out of Joonmyun’s pants. At least Yifan appears embarrassed at being caught defiling the eating area, but Joonmyun is unphased.

“Shouldn’t you be out, dazzling some potential spouse or something?” Joonmyun inquires, not bothering to pull his shirt down and Jongdae can see the red marks from Yifan’s mouth blossoming on his chest. How is it that Joonmyun can still manage to look chastising in such a compromising position? Jongdae shudders. Leave it to their parents to have someone around to scold him over a bad date in their place.

“ _I_ was dazzling,” Jongdae answers flippantly. “ _He_ wasn’t.”

Joonmyun sighs, clearly more upset over Yifan lifting off him to rebutton his slacks than Jongdae’s dismissal of another suitor. It’s been years since they married and they’re still all over each other. Jongdae won’t admit it out loud, but he’s jealous of his brother; he found love. Marriage is about reproducing, never about love and what Joonmyun and Yifan have is a rare and beautiful thing.

Jongdae doesn’t have such illusions for his own future, but it would at least be nice enough to marry someone he’s moderately physically attracted to, perhaps even someone who can hold a conversation without putting him to sleep. Until then, he has to deal with his brother sexing up the house while he still lives in it. It’s enough to make his stomach churn. Instead of sticking around to watch the show, Jongdae backs out of the room. If there’s any justice in the world, their parents will come home in time to find Joonmyun and Yifan still defiling the table. The light in the kitchen has already gone off and he hears the sound of Yifan’s weight hitting the table again.

It’s amazing Jongdae has made it this far in life without being permanently emotionally scarred.

 

There is nothing more worrying to Jongdae than his parents’ complete lack of disapproval when he tells them his date went horribly. The two men sitting across from him - his dad and father - don’t bat an eyelash when Jongdae explains that his latest in a long, disastrous line of matches was poorly thought out. He’d been prepared for the lecture and heavy sighs of disappointment that follow every morning after. He’d even measured out the right distance to be out of the range of his dad’s glistening, pouty eyes that always leave Jongdae with a wedge of guilt in the back of his throat.

But it’s oddly peaceful.

Too peaceful.

Jongdae is worried.

“Why are neither of you launching into your memorized monologue regarding responsibility and entitlement and all that other stuff I never listen to?” Jongdae finally demands.

“Because it’s not necessary,” his father replies, sharing a secret smile with his spouse. Jongdae decidedly fears what that look could mean.

“And why not?” Jongdae asks, shrinking back on the couch.

“Because it’s all been arranged,” his dad answers.

A sickening dread fills Jongdae’s stomach, icy cold and ruthless, and his eyes grow wide, jaw dropping in disbelief. “But you told me I would have a choice,” he argues weakly.

The matching pointed stares they direct at him have Jongdae feeling five years old again, scolded like the time he’d uprooted his dad’s tomato plants so he could use the dirt to fill Joonmyun’s shoes. But this is so much worse than that. This won’t be a simple reprimand. This will be the rest of his life.

“You’re too stubborn, son,” Jongdae’s father announces, his dad nodding his agreement. “We’ve given you ample time, allowed you too many freedoms and you’ve done nothing but cast every potential husband to the side without a moment’s thought. It’s time for you to marry. It looks poorly on our family to have a son so old who hasn’t started his own family.”

The blood drains from Jongdae’s face and his fingers bunch in the dark blue fabric of his pants to find purchase. He knew he’d been living on borrowed time, but this? “Who am I marrying?” he finally asks.

“The only child of the Lu family,” his father announces with pride.

Jongdae feels numb, even as his dad tells him not to go anywhere tonight because they’re all going to have dinner with their intended in-laws. Something inside Jongdae breaks a little, his future perhaps, and the rest of the conversation goes unheard.

 

The real reason behind the sudden betrothal becomes all too apparent as soon as Jongdae is shown into the Lu’s living room. A genteel woman ushers them inside, sitting across from them when they take up the couch. If the Lu’s son was birthed by a fertile female, then he would be in high demand. It’s been over four hundred years since most of the world’s population of women were rendered infertile by an improperly tested birth control - nearly leading to the extinction of the entire race - and even now it’s rare to find a female who isn’t born sterile. It’s been men who have carried the burden of replenishing the population, all males implanted with a female reproductive system just after birth because female bodies would reject the new uterus from the lingering effects of the drug. 

The pressure to have children will be higher, their marriage put under a microscope to ensure they do their utmost to produce fertile females within the limited time frame a grown uterus is useable. Jongdae feels nauseous even as he smiles graciously at the woman who is gushing over how handsome he is, how much her son will be taken with him. Being the son of a public figure means Jongdae is used to scrutiny, to people appraising him and it comes as no surprise when his newly betrothed’s parents do the same. Even when they all retire to the dining room to eat, Jongdae feels their gazes burning into him.

“Please forgive our son for his tardiness. Sometimes he forgets the time when he’s out with his friends.”

Jongdae’s parents laugh, assuring them they aren’t insulted, that Jongdae is the same way and they will make quite the pair. The pressure is taken off Jongdae somewhat when the adults take over the conversation, never leaving a moment for Jongdae to pipe in. He suspects that’s the plan because every lull has his father peering over at Jongdae almost nervously. He may be an unpredictable, opinionated boy, but he’s not foolish enough to create a scene during an evening such as this.

The conversation turns to politics, something Jongdae is accustomed to tuning out. Despite the high quality of the food, his stomach still bubbles and his nerves twist with apprehension. The sound of a door opening has Jongdae jumping in his seat, his heart attempting to climb up his throat and out his mouth. His chest feels heavy, weighted.

A man walks into the dining area, stopping short at the presence of the five people at the table, their dinner mostly finished. It’s obvious he takes mostly after his mother; his hair is blond, his eyes a light brown and complexion fair. There’s a feminine quality about him that begins and ends with his face.

“Ah, Han, so good of you to appear before dessert.”

Han peers at Jongdae, blinking once with disinterest on his handsome face and Jongdae holds his gaze, keeping himself the picture of indifference to match. There’s a soft huff that’s loud in the room and then Han is turning to leave, ignoring his parents’ calls for him to cease being rude to their guests.

Jongdae’s fists clench under the table, indignance replacing his nervousness. The clear dismissal has left a bad taste in his mouth and he glares at his father even as he’s being placated by people clearly accustomed to making excuses for their son’s behavior. Jongdae stares at the vacant doorway and tries not to let his disappointment show too clearly. It wouldn’t be polite.

 

Jongdae feels like exploding.

He’d pleaded and fought with his parents to cancel the engagement as soon as they’d gotten home and he’d been rewarded with a harsh slap across the cheek from his father and a stern _you earned that_ look from his dad. And as if it had never happened, they’d cheerfully announced the next morning that the wedding would be held in only two weeks, expecting Jongdae to be happy about it. He’d lost his appetite, storming out of the house with his school terminal clutched in his hand.

Luckily, Jongdae’s very best friend in the entire world is willing to listen to Jongdae spit and rant about how horrible the entire situation is until Jongdae finally loses steam and falls into a vacant seat in front of the History building on campus.

Kyungsoo sits beside him, an arm around Jongdae’s shoulders to comfort him. Jongdae leans against him, resisting the urge to bury his face in Kyungsoo’s neck and stubbornly spend the rest of his day refusing to move. “Let’s run away together,” Jongdae suggests only to get a pinch on the thigh for it.

“You knew this was coming,” Kyungsoo says, his hand rubbing up and down Jongdae’s arm comfortingly. “It was inevitable what with you constantly turning down everyone who shows interest.”

“I didn’t turn _you_ down,” Jongdae croons, laughing when Kyungsoo’s face goes sour. They’ve been the best of friends forever; sometimes it feels like far longer than that. They’d tried turning their friendship chemistry into a romance once and, while explosive, it also hadn’t been particularly healthy or meant to be long lasting. Jongdae is just thankful their friendship was too strong for even that to break them apart and he treasures every day Kyungsoo puts up with him.

“Yes and we nearly burned down the unused Chem Lab by the end, so maybe you should have,” Kyungsoo teases.

“But you looked so hot with the reflection of the flames flickering in your eyes,” Jongdae jokes, laughing when Kyungsoo elbows him in the ribs. That had been one harrowing, nearly disastrous night and Jongdae is usually glad he survived.

Together, with their arms linked - something Kyungsoo would never do with anyone else - they head for the building behind them for their first class of the week. There aren’t many people out, most of the students either already in their classrooms or opting to show up via hologram. Jongdae has always found the low hum distracting, but he’s learned to tune it out over the years. He plugs his terminal into the port at his seat and his screen fuzzes to life in front of him. With a few swipes of his fingers, he sends his assignment to the professor’s terminal and watches as his name turns from red to green on the display on the front wall.

At least with school Jongdae has something to take his mind off his impending doom. He shifts to get comfortable in his seat, allowing the droning in the background to lull him, pull him in. History isn’t one of Jongdae's strengths, but he’s still struggling to find what he _is_ good at. His entire family is politics - his father, his dad, his brother and even his brother’s husband dabbles in the area. And yet Jongdae doesn’t have a political bone in his body. He leaves the silver-tongued mind games to his betters; he’s never been particularly eloquent anyway.

Getting married is something Jongdae didn’t want to do until he found himself, found that one thing he’s good at and can be passionate about, but the decision has been taken out of his hands.

 

Things take a turn for the _this is really happening_ when Jongdae comes home to find his brother waiting for him on the porch, a pleasant, polite smile on his face. “Don’t you patronize me,” Jongdae demands with a curl of his lip. “I’m not so easily taken by your tricks.”

Joonmyun laughs at him, throwing an arm around Jongdae’s shoulders to bring him in for a hug. “You never did fall for that smile.”

“Why are you here?” Jongdae inquires, immediately suspicious.

Joonmyun sighs, backing up a step to appraise his brother. “Dad says you’re angry with them - “ Jongdae snorts. “And they’ve asked that I take you in for your doctor’s appointment.”

Jongdae’s stomach wobbles dangerously. “Already?” he says with a whimper, his posture deflating instantly.

“Come on,” Joonmyun coaxes, once again pulling his brother along, this time into the car.

Jongdae doesn’t put up a fight. He’s still in shock; things are moving too fast. It’s been less than a full day and he’d hoped for more breathing room, hoped his reaction this morning would have convinced his parents to maybe push back the date. But if he’s being taken to the doctor for a mandatory pre-wedding check-up, those hopes have been dashed.

All citizens are required to go to a standard fertility screening before they’re allowed to marry. In a society where having children is the main reason for marriage, it’s important to ensure both parties are healthy and fertile and able to carry a child. Jongdae doesn’t look forward to being hooked up to a machine to see inside him and he absentmindedly runs his hand over the small scar just above his pubic bone from where he was surgically implanted with a uterus and ovaries as a newborn.

The only thing that helps is Joonmyun holding his hand as they wait. “It’s not so bad,” Joonmyun says in a voice that sounds encouraging. Jongdae knows that he’s not talking about the having babies part. Joonmyun has gotten special dispensation to put off having children for the sake of his career.

“The check-up or the marriage?” Jongdae snaps back, too upset to notice the smile slide off his brother’s face.

“Both,” Joonmyun answers. “You know how important this is, Jongdae. This is a responsibility that rests on all our shoulders and I’m sorry it’s fallen on yours so heavily, but there’s nothing I can do for you. I tried.”

Jongdae leans over, resting his head on Joonmyun’s shoulder. “But I don’t know him and he clearly doesn’t want to know me.”

“It takes time,” Joonmyun responds, his thumb brushing over Jongdae’s knuckles comfortingly.

“We can’t all be lucky like you,” Jongdae mumbles.

Joonmyun sighs. “No, but you have a way of making people like you whether they want to or not,” Joonmyun explains with a genuine grin. “Your natural love of life is far better at luring people in than my practiced compliments and faux smiles.”

“Well,” Jongdae sighs, squeezing his brother’s hand, “you’re not wrong.”

Being with Joonmyun makes it better for a little while.

 

Jongdae has seen his fair share of marriages, of two people who barely know each other pushed together with the expectations of the entire population guiding their actions. He’s always looked at them with pity, safe behind his glass cage with his family name as a shield and the determination that it would _never_ be him. Perhaps it’s the reason Jongdae is headed for a mental breakdown.

All his life, he’d been told by his parents that they wouldn’t do exactly what they’re doing now, and maybe he’d taken advantage of it. When he imagined finally getting married, it was always in the far off future; never this soon. And it was always someone of his own choosing. Not someone they hand picked.

Jongdae’s last hope at getting out of this mess is stolen from him when both his and Han’s tests come back, and he knows he’s doomed the moment his parents’ faces light up. He slinks out of the room unseen, willing his stomach to stop churning. He wishes Joonmyun was here as an anchor to keep him grounded. Joonmyun would know the right thing to say to calm the angry sea roiling to life inside him.

It’s almost worse when he hides inside his room, looking around at the four walls that have been his sanctuary his entire life. Where they used to protect him, now they show him everything he’s about to lose. Pictures flicker around him, the bright smiling faces of his family and friends he’d put over his display terminal to encourage him while studying. There’s a loop of him and Kyungsoo that plays out on the frame by Jongdae’s bed, sitting nestled in the mess of stacked movie holos and a few pieces of jewelry he wears so often he never bothers to put away properly. Jongdae remembers the day it was taken - their high school graduation - and both of them are grinning from ear to ear because Kyungsoo had kissed him for the first time only minutes earlier.

Jongdae slumps on his bed, palms pushed to his eyes to ease the ache that precedes the need to cry.

 

Things don’t get better.

Jongdae’s dad wakes him up early for a _surprise_ , either unwilling to take note of his son’s deathly pallor or uncaring. Either way, Jongdae is forced out of his comfy bed, made to put on clothes - _not those, they’re wrinkled_ \- and herded into the car without a bite to eat. It’s just as well. Any sort of food right now would probably make him feel worse.

The lurch of the car initially lifting to hover over the road makes him groan and he stares out the window in lieu of striking up a conversation. The band around Jongdae’s wrist beeps, an incoming call from Kyungsoo that Jongdae declines. Kyungsoo will be upset with him, but he isn’t in the mood.

The drive isn’t long, Jongdae peering at a house that looks like every other house in a neighborhood that isn’t theirs, but looks just like it. The only difference is the bed of towering sunflowers that’s grown as a fence between this house and the one next door. Jongdae likes them; they’re bright and colorful, standing proud and tall out in the open when most people keep their gardens hidden away in the backyard.

Jongdae’s dad gets out of the car, waiting for Jongdae to do the same before following him up the stone pathway to the door. “Unlock the door,” his dad says with a betraying warble of excitement in his voice.

Momentarily confused, Jongdae presses his hand to the scanner, realization hitting him square in the chest when the front door slides open, accepting his fingerprints as the owner of the home.

“Surprise!” Jongdae’s dad exclaims.

Jongdae thinks he might bless his new home by throwing up in it.

It doesn’t have the same layout as his parent’s home; the living room is smaller, more concentrated to add in a bar that separates it from the dining area and kitchen. Jongdae, admittedly, likes that part, smoothing his palms over the cool granite countertop as his dad rambles on about the efficiency of the upgraded solar panels on the roof that store almost twice as much energy as the ones they have. Plus the screens mounted in every room - seamless in the wall and invisible to the eye until turned on through voice command - that are connected to the worldwide feed for news and entertainment.

The kitchen is large enough to move around in comfortably, an island in the center and a back door that leads directly to a greenhouse Jongdae has no intention of filling. Perhaps Han will be the gardening type; Jongdae never has been.

The downstairs has its own small bathroom, but the upstairs bathroom is massive. Jongdae stands inside the tub in wonder before crouching down to play with the control panel that allows the user to set the water temperature, how high to fill it and what soaps or perfumes to add.

The entire place is already furnished. Jongdae sees his dad’s handiwork in it, sighing at the pale shade of gray that covers the four-poster bed in the master bedroom. The comforter looks soft, like he could sink into it, but Jongdae desires color. Perhaps he’ll use part of his student stipend to find something with a little more personality.

“What do you think?” his dad asks, clapping gleefully as Jongdae stands in the hall, two empty bedrooms on his sides for his future children. “Don’t look that way. There’s plenty of growing room and your father and I will only be a few blocks over if you need anything.”

_I need my freedom back._

But that’s too much to ask and he knows it. There will be no arguing his way out of this. His parents are determined to see him married off to Lu Han and, as a dutiful son, Jongdae should obey, should be proud his parents have chosen such a fine, upstanding family for him to be a part of. It doesn’t lessen the sting, but if Jongdae thinks of the happiness it will bring his parents, then maybe he can use it to get through this.

 

Then again, maybe not.

They’re over at the Lu residence for another dinner, this time with Han sitting at the table with them, conversing with Jongdae’s father. (He’s only mildly jealous his father seems more interested in Han’s college goals than he does his own son’s.) Jongdae tries not to watch Han from across the table, but he can’t help himself. Han has a surety about himself, a confidence that’s attractive until he laughs, his jaw practically unhinging. Jongdae resists the urge let out a distressed laugh of his own knowing this man - the one who has made no motion to speak to Jongdae since they arrived - will soon be tied to Jongdae for the rest of his life.

It's almost as if Jongdae is an afterthought, a particularly bad taste that lingers and makes Han's face pinch when his father tries to steer the conversation in Jongdae's direction. It's easy enough to keep his answers limited to the one or two word range, preferring to glance at his father for help only to get nothing in return.

"Have you seen the house?" Jongdae's dad graciously cuts in, saving Jongdae from Han's polite, yet disinterested stare.

Han's attention is diverted, allowing Jongdae to breathe as Han puts on the charm, smiling and acting as if he's actually intrigued by the wedding gift. Jongdae sees through him in an instant, but his dad doesn't. His dad’s always been easily taken though, so it’s no real surprise. There is, however, a twist in his father’s face that Jongdae knows well. He doesn’t buy Han’s enthusiasm either.

Naturally, the parents just can’t help themselves, declaring they’re going to take dessert in the living room while Han and Jongdae are left in the dining area to get to know each other. Jongdae would rather eat Joonmyun’s cooking from when he started learning - it put him in the hospital once because Joonmyun had mistaken the medicinal plants in the garden as herbs - than be left alone with Han, but he doesn’t have a choice.

The silence is heavy, awkward and Jongdae sits back, refusing to look at his husband-to-be. He hears the scrape of Han’s chair on the expensive flooring and an amused noise after.

“I suppose congratulations are in order,” Han announces, the tone of his voice biting, bitter.

Jongdae’s head snaps up. “Excuse you?”

“Don’t act like an imbecile. You and I both know how much my genes are worth. Your daddies bought me for you. So good job.”

Jongdae’s fingers twitch to wrap around Han’s pale throat, squeeze until he feels it give beneath him, fair skin turned mottled red and blue. His heart rate is through the roof, and Jongdae has to contain himself before he does something regrettable. “I’d expect someone who’s been bought and paid for to behave in a manner befitting his station,” he spits out, watching with delight as Han’s cheeks color with indignation. It’s a sharp insult that has the intended effect. 

The city that thrives around them has a dark side, one that goes unspoken of in polite society. There’s an underground human trafficking ring that acts as a breeding farm, selling off nameless, faceless people to be used for reproduction then cast aside as waste. Insinuating Han is one of them - a Breeder, an entity stripped of name and individuality - is the harshest insult Jongdae could have used against him.

“If you think for one moment that I’m going to let you -”

“What!?” Jongdae exclaims through gritted teeth, trying to keep it down to avoid interruption. “There’s no use trying to get out of it. _I’ve tried_.” Jongdae ignores the look of surprise that sweeps over Han’s features and stands, turning and leaving without another word. He’s seething, burning with rage and his parents do nothing to stop him from waltzing right out the door to walk home alone. The night air will do him good.

 

“I can’t believe you called him a Breeder,” Kyungsoo laughs, his face red and tears of mirth clinging to the corners of his eyes. He’s clutching his belly, lunch forgotten and hand slapping down on the table.

“I didn’t outright call him a Breeder,” Jongdae clarifies. “But he deserved it.” Jongdae’s blood boils just thinking about that haughty tone in Han’s voice, the cutting hatred. If that’s how he wants this to play out, Jongdae will play.

“At least your marriage will have that spark of excitement!” Kyungsoo wheezes, trying to breathe.

“Homicidal spark, maybe,” Jongdae grumbles, sighing as he picks at his food.

As upset as he was at Han’s attitude, he does feel mildly guilty over his rebuttal. Amidst all the chaos of suddenly being thrown into a marriage he is unprepared for, Jongdae still grasps at the hope of there being a friendship, if nothing else, with his spouse. But after last night, he’s not sure their relationship can be salvaged despite barely forming.

“You certainly know how to leave an impression,” Kyungsoo remarks, pulling himself together. The small restaurant they’re sitting in front of is relatively empty, the two of them partaking in a late lunch before the dinner crowds begin pouring in. There’s a lovely aroma to the place, the scents of fruit from the trees lining the outside adding to the appeal. It also blocks the midday sun from blinding Jongdae as he drains the last of his tea with honey, to chase his toasted egg salad sandwich. The tea washes it down wonderfully.

“He started it,” Jongdae quips, grinning at the ridiculousness of his own statement as Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow at him knowingly. “I know,” he sighs. “I’ll start working on my apology.”

They both know it’s a lie, but the subject is dropped. The two of them leave arm-in-arm, Kyungsoo leaning heavily against him as they languidly begin the trek back to their homes. Kyungsoo lives two blocks closer to the city than Jongdae does and they part ways at the end of the road, Kyungsoo giving Jongdae a hug and a, “don’t do anything stupid, Kim Jongdae, I know that look on your face,” before leaving.

Once again, Kyungsoo is right.

Jongdae is home for less than an hour before he can’t take the pleasantries of his parents trying to coerce him into paying a visit to the Lus on his own. They entreat him to be gracious to his future in-laws and Jongdae barely gets out the front door with his sanity intact.

He thinks about calling Kyungsoo, but he doesn’t. Instead, Jongdae heads back toward the city on his own for something to help him forget about this nonsense if only for the night. Jongdae may be a free spirit, but he’s not reckless by nature, and yet the very place he winds up is as reckless as they come.

The city’s underground is known for its illegalities, but there are some places that are well within their rights to operate even if the government doesn’t want the word spreading. Jongdae finds himself slipping through the small space between two buildings, following the narrow path to the end, and then taking an abrupt left down a staircase. At the bottom is a door - no touchpad or identification required. Just a door. Jongdae raps on it three times.

A large, imposing man opens the door and Jongdae is ushered inside, required to leave his identity bracelet at the door after his age has been verified. The entire place is built on the foundations of the old city, the ceiling a concrete slab slapped atop a vacated factory before it was repurposed.

Nowadays, it’s a club where the younger people go to get away from the uniformity of their daily lives. Jongdae had been brought here for the first time just after he’d turned eighteen, astounded at the amount of color splashed against the walls, booming music he’d never heard before playing loud from all sides, the amount of alcohol - highly frowned upon in public but free flowing behind closed doors - more than he’d ever seen. Not much has changed in the last few years, and Jongdae revels in the beat that rattles in his bones, the slide of bodies as people dance wherever they want without a care as to who is around them.

The music is dated, pulled off the archives; Jongdae has some of it at home to listen to when he needs to drown out his thoughts. The particular thoughts plaguing him of late, however, require more. He begins a wandering trail toward the drinks, allowing himself to be drawn into the dancing crowd multiple times before he gets there. There’s a smile on his face as he leans against the small bar, ready to order something that looks very unhealthy - are drinks supposed to glow? - when there’s a tap on his shoulder.

“Chanyeol!” Jongdae exclaims in his surprise. It’s been a long time since Jongdae’s seen his old friend. Chanyeol’s taller, if that’s possible, his dark hair threatening to fall in his eyes and his smile as soft and sincere as it always was. “What are you doing here?” This is the last place Jongdae would have expected to see Chanyeol.

Chanyeol says something that gets drowned in the music and Jongdae lifts to his toes to hear him, but all he gets is the sound of mumbling. Graciously, Chanyeol takes Jongdae by the arm, guiding him away from the music and into a room above the speakers before letting go. Jongdae’s ears pop.

“I said,” Chanyeol begins, “what are _you_ doing here?”

Jongdae tilts his head. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I hear you’re getting married.”

Ah, there it is. Jongdae’s mood evaporates, his heart sinking in his chest. “Not by choice,” Jongdae chokes out, backing away from Chanyeol like a wounded animal. For his part, Chanyeol looks repentant for his words and steps forward hesitantly only to retreat.

“I’m sorry.” Chanyeol sounds sincere, but the apology _feels_ hollow.

Jongdae smiles up at his old friend, remembering the days when they were comfortable with each other, when Jongdae wasn’t afraid to tell Chanyeol everything. He misses it. “Let’s dance,” Jongdae decides, grabbing Chanyeol’s hands to pull him forward.

Chanyeol laughs, confusion gone as he tries, and fails, to get out of Jongdae’s grip. “You know I can’t dance.”

“Then let’s fake it, come on.”

Chanyeol allows himself to be pulled back down into the crowd, the music bursting in Jongdae’s ears and the warmth of Chanyeol’s hands on his sides luring him deeper. Jongdae has to put Chanyeol’s arms around his waist, be the one who begins moving freely to the beat, sloppy and a little uncoordinated. It’s not like Jongdae’s ever been much of a dancer either, but it’s not about the movement, but about the release that follows.

It’s freeing, invigorating and everything drains away until all that’s left is the way Chanyeol is moving against him and the taste of alcohol on his tongue from when they’re too parched to keep dancing. His head is fuzzy, spinning and the lights all around melt together to create a fantasy setting that purges Jongdae of his worries even if it’s merely a temporary fix to a permanent problem. His inhibitions, insecurities, that little voice that strains to be heard over the potent mix of music and alcohol are all subdued, drowned.

The more he drinks, the more liberating Jongdae feels until he’s winding his arms around Chanyeol’s neck, standing on his toes to kiss his old friend. Chanyeol takes Jongdae by the wrists, pushing him away enough to stare at him incredulously for only a moment before he’s bringing Jongdae back to him. Jongdae knows he shouldn’t be doing this; he knows he needs to be responsible, but he can’t bear the weight of it all without a way to release.

Chanyeol licks the alcohol from the back of Jongdae’s teeth, sucks Jongdae’s tongue into his mouth and Jongdae is hot all over, his hands running underneath Chanyeol’s shirt to sweep over heated skin. It’s easy to fall. It’s easy to break.

Jongdae inhales sharply at the rush of cold air that hits when Chanyeol drags him out of the club, pushing him against the concrete wall to kiss him until he can’t breathe. His head is cloudy, his emotions bubbling and Jongdae greedily takes in everything Chanyeol has to offer.

“I should have accepted you when you asked me to marry you,” Jongdae confesses in a heated whispered against the shell of Chanyeol’s ear. “I’m so sorry.”

Chanyeol leans away just enough to trail his thumbs over Jongdae’s cheekbones, cup his face and leave a light, lingering kiss on his lips. “Will you let me have you now? Just this once.” His words trail off and Jongdae swallows over the knot in his throat, nodding without a second thought.

Even if it’s only for a night, Jongdae wants to feel what it’s like to be desired one last time.

The chill of the night does nothing to temper Jongdae’s desire, the alcohol thrumming through his veins and Chanyeol’s presence a solid weight to keep him grounded. Chanyeol keeps him warm, keeps him safe as they rush to the small apartment Chanyeol lives in; it’s further into the city than Jongdae remembers, but he’s a little too preoccupied to dwell on the thought when Chanyeol’s mouth is on his neck, fingers curled around his hip possessively.

This late, they’re alone along the road, silence following them into the tall building. It’s only broken by their hurried footsteps and panting breaths as Jongdae tries his best to fight the urge to just shove Chanyeol against the nearest surface and grind against him, beg to be bent over and taken.

“This is a really fucking terrible idea,” Jongdae announces to Chanyeol’s apartment as soon as they’re inside.

Chanyeol’s eyes are dark, burning when he turns to stare at Jongdae. “It is.”

Jongdae, however, doesn’t resist when Chanyeol grabs him, large palms fitted on the curve of Jongdae’s thighs to pluck him from the floor. His fingers dig into Chanyeol’s back for purchase, moaning when he feels the press of Chanyeol’s cock against his stomach, the heat of Chanyeol’s breath where it fans over his face.

It’s not long before Jongdae is pressed to the plush mattress of Chanyeol’s single bed, chest heaving and shirt pushed up as Chanyeol fixes his mouth over Jongdae’s left nipple. “You’re going to regret this in the morning,” Jongdae groans, fingers sifting through Chanyeol’s hair to hold. For his part, Jongdae won’t regret a thing.

“Yeah,” Chanyeol mumbles, mouth insistent as he licks his way through Jongdae’s lips for another kiss.

“As long as you know what you’re getting into,” Jongdae says, jaw falling slack after as Chanyeol palms his hardening cock through his pants.

Chanyeol is eager, his nails scraping down Jongdae’s hips and thighs when he pulls his pants and underwear off to toss aside and Jongdae hisses at the sting that pulses under his skin. He tries to tug Chanyeol up by his hair, stopped by the wicked grin on Chanyeol’s mouth, narrow eyes shining and locked on Jongdae’s as he drags his tongue over the tip of Jongdae’s dick.

Jongdae moans unabashedly as Chanyeol leaves long licks over his dick, teasing with a scrape of his teeth before he fixes his lips around the crown and sucks. It feels like the bottom of Jongdae’s stomach has dropped out, his breath stolen as Chanyeol hollows his cheeks and sinks down, lips swollen and red and so slick around the girth of Jongdae’s cock. He stutters out Chanyeol’s name, Chanyeol humming in return and the vibration runs along his cock, settling in Jongdae’s gut. His thighs try to close in, held open by Chanyeol’s hands and he tries his best not to fuck upward into the heat of Chanyeol’s mouth, but he can’t help it.

Jongdae’s cock falls from Chanyeol’s mouth, saliva and precome coating his chin and Jongdae hauls him up, licking over the mess before kissing him. It’s a frantic race to get Chanyeol’s pants off, Jongdae looking down between their bodies to groan at how large Chanyeol’s dick is, voicing aloud how much he wants it inside him.

Chanyeol curses, words mumbled against Jongdae's mouth, teeth nipping at Jongdae's lower lip and hips grinding down. The alcohol loosens Jongdae's lips; it's the only reasoning he has for how much he begs Chanyeol to touch him, fuck him, _love me, Chanyeol_.

Lube drips from Chanyeol's fingers and Jongdae keens when the cool gel hits his cock. It flexes, lifting from his stomach only to fall back, a line of precome connecting the tip to his belly from the chill. Jongdae spreads his legs further, head tipping back and lower lip trapped in his teeth when Chanyeol pushes two slick fingers into him at once. Jongdae knows Chanyeol owns a stretcher - a device the width of a small finger that slides easily inside a man to slowly stretch him open - but it's much more personal this way and Jongdae prefers it.

Jongdae grinds on Chanyeol's thick fingers, appreciating the subtle burn that accompanies each move until even that fades.

Chanyeol is so considerate, careful as he rolls a condom down the length of his cock and slowly pushes his way into Jongdae in one long, seemingly never ending thrust. Jongdae flushes hot, wiggling his hips to appreciate how full he feels, how much Chanyeol stretches him open as he clenches down. With a deep, rumbling groan, Chanyeol falls over Jongdae, his weight on his forearms as he slides his cock out carefully, letting Jongdae feel every centimeter of it before slamming forward to bury himself.

Jongdae can't breathe. Chanyeol fucks him desperately deep, Jongdae's nails scratching red trails down his back as he cries out for more, for Chanyeol to fuck him fast enough, hard enough to forget. Sweat sticks his skin to the blanket beneath him, pulling it along as he's shunted up the bed with every powerful thrust that reverberates in his hips. There's no doubt he's going to be sore tomorrow, but that's the last thing on his mind.

This feels like more than a fuck, like maybe a goodbye, and Jongdae clings tighter to Chanyeol, allowing the pleasure to override the ache in his chest. Chanyeol mouths at his shoulder, pressing kisses to the skin and mumbling words Jongdae doesn't want to hear. He wraps his thighs around Chanyeol's waist, heels pushing at his lower back to bring him deeper. His hips jerk up as Chanyeol moves down and Jongdae loses himself to it, mindlessly rutting against Chanyeol’s cock.

The way his cock rubs - trapped between their stomachs - has Jongdae gasping out his orgasm, toes curling and spine bowing, his fingers twisting in Chanyeol’s hair. It wracks through him in strong pulses that leave his thighs twitching and ass clenching so tight around Chanyeol’s cock as he fucks him through it, never wavering.

Jongdae comes down with black fuzzing around his vision, Chanyeol’s grunt loud in his ear when he fills the condom, hips stuttering forward until he stills. Jongdae drapes his arms loosely around Chanyeol’s shoulders, content with the heavy weight over him, the warmth of Chanyeol’s body keeping him comfortable even if he’s sticky and sweaty.

It’s minutes later when Chanyeol lifts. Jongdae had been so certain Chanyeol was asleep, but he’s peeling off Jongdae to stand and Jongdae reaches for him with a whine. Chanyeol smiles, and Jongdae’s stomach wobbles.

“Drunk or not, I’m not letting you catch a cold,” Chanyeol rumbles in a raspy voice. He disappears, reappearing with a towel that he uses to clean Jongdae before tossing aside. And instead of trying to move Jongdae, who is content to watch Chanyeol amble around, a longing in his limbs, Chanyeol gets out another fluffy comforter to drape over him, cuddling underneath it and letting Jongdae wind around him, head tucked just under Chanyeol’s chin.

Jongdae lets sleep take him, but not before mumbling a sincere _thank you_ into Chanyeol’s chest.

 

There’s an empty spot on the bed next to Jongdae when he wakes, sitting up with a groan because his head is positively pounding. Other parts of him ache too, but it’s a pleasant ache and while he’s waiting for that pang of regret to slice through him, right now he feels nothing short of calm. And kinda gross, but that’s something a shower and a toothbrush can easily fix.

Chanyeol shuffles in as Jongdae is midway through talking himself out of leaving the warmth of the blanket to find his clothes. There’s a mug in his hand and a lopsided smile on his face and Jongdae wishes. . . 

“It’ll help,” Chanyeol says, handing over the steaming cup.

Jongdae takes a tentative sip only to sigh as the hot ginger tea coats his tongue. “This is perfect,” he tells Chanyeol, taking another, larger swallow even if it burns.

“It probably won’t help much with the headache, but at least you won’t get sick,” he jests, sitting on the furthest corner of the bed from Jongdae.

“Thank you.”

They sit in companionable silence, Jongdae drinking his tea and Chanyeol resolutely staring at the floor between his feet. Jongdae thinks about crawling over and draping himself over Chanyeol’s back, kissing his neck and telling him how very sorry he is for managing to fuck everything up again, but he doesn’t have the courage.

Chanyeol leaves the room for Jongdae to dress, politely offering to drive Jongdae home, but Jongdae declines. “The walk will do me some good,” he uses as an excuse and Chanyeol allows him to leave without so much as touching him.

Jongdae’s done some questionable things in his life, but never to another person before. He’d used Chanyeol’s leftover feelings from nearly two years ago as a way to comfort himself, satisfy his own needs without thinking about how it was going to affect Chanyeol after. It’s clearly taken a toll and Jongdae hates it.

And the worst bit - he still doesn’t regret it.

He’s halfway home when he stops abruptly, looking down at his wrist and cursing before turning back around. He left his identification bracelet at the club last night. He jogs most of the way back, out of breath and sweating despite the early morning chill in the air. Jongdae doesn’t even know if they’re open, but he knocks anyway, huffing out a laugh of relief when the door opens and he’s allowed into the small entryway.

A quick check ensures he hasn’t missed any calls and he slides the uniform, standard gray band back onto his arm with a nod of thanks before leaving. He doesn’t make it far.

An incoming call has Jongdae backing against a building wall, answering on speaker mode with as casual a tone as he can muster. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your dulcet tones so early in the day?”

“Jongdae,” Joonmyun chides, a tone of resignation in his voice. “You’d better be glad dad tasked me with keeping tabs on you after you stormed out last night. If our parents knew where you were -”

Jongdae’s throat closes. “You know?”

“Look, I know this marriage has you wound up, but an underground club?”

“It’s legal,” Jongdae responds, his nerves settling a little when he realizes Joonmyun thinks he was at the club all night and not getting the fuck of his life with his old friend slash ex-suitor. “And I was careful. The family reputation is still squeaky clean.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” Joonmyun snaps back and Jongdae can just picture his brother with his head down, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as he breathes to keep himself from losing his temper. “I’m more worried about _you_ than anything else right now.”

“Aww,” Jongdae coos teasingly. “I never knew you cared so much.” And Jongdae nearly laughs because Joonmyun’s silence means he’s trying to figure out what to say without being impolite. “I know,” Jongdae says softly. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. It’s all out of my system.”

“Where are you now? Should I pick you up?”

“No, I’m close to home. I’ll see you later.” Jongdae disconnects the call before Joonmyun can protest. It’s amazing what a little fresh air can do to clear the head.

The first thing Jongdae does when he gets home is shower. He strips down, standing in front of the full length mirror and taking stock of his trophies. There’s a large bruise on his shoulder from Chanyeol’s mouth, a few smaller bruises spread along the insides of his thighs and two glaringly obvious handprints that bracket his hips. Jongdae finds himself smiling at them, remembering the night before even if his memory isn’t entirely reliable.

With the water steaming hot, Jongdae cleans himself quickly, efficiently before stepping out to let the fans air blow him dry. He still has a class later in the day, his curriculum light this term - something his parents suggested and now he knows why.

As he dresses, he thinks about calling Kyungsoo to talk about Chanyeol, but eventually decides against it. He doesn’t want Kyungsoo to know the type of person his best friend has become.

 

Jongdae means to put it behind him. It’s easy enough not to think about the dead look in Chanyeol’s eyes as he walked out the door when his head is being crammed full of wonderful facts. It’s simple enough to ignore the pleasant ache of his hips that flares when he walks with Kyungsoo at his side, chirping his ear off about someone he may have met.

Jongdae envies Kyungsoo; he has an older brother who is already married with three children of his own and with that, the pressure for Kyungsoo to do the same is non-existent. They all know Kyungsoo is too belligerent to marry just anyone and he’ll find the right person of his own accord. And unlike Jongdae, Kyungsoo has been actively searching for someone to settle down with for quite a while.

As per usual, Jongdae’s house is empty when he gets there. His parents are out - his father at the government offices downtown listening to citizen complaints and his dad volunteering at the hospice. It’s been this way for years and Jongdae remembers when he used to enjoy the silence, but not right now. Not today.

It eats at him, picking away at his bones. He finds a message left for him on the refrigerator, reminding him they’re getting together with the Lus over the weekend to discuss wedding details. Jongdae erases it, resisting the urge to slam his fist into the screen until it cracks and breaks. He needs to get away.

He means to go to Kyungsoo’s, but his feet keep moving, this festering inside him ushering him further away until the lines of houses are replaced with businesses - a bakery, the little natural remedies shop beside it that his dad enjoys visiting, a holo game shop with flashing signs advertising the newest in interactive gaming. And even then Jongdae keeps going, chewing relentlessly on his lower lip, eyes cast to the sidewalk. There aren’t many places for him to go; the club is off limits now that Joonmyun knows about it. Jongdae stops, scuffing his shoe on the cement and blowing the hair out of his face with a drawn out sigh.

He takes pause, looking around. The only thing around here that he knows is . . . Chanyeol’s apartment.

Jongdae wavers. There's a part of him that wants to turn tail and run far from Chanyeol, to ease the niggling guilt wiggling inside him. But then there's the part that craves Chanyeol, wants to see him again and soak up the affection, the tender moments, because soon he'll be thrown into a marriage that will hold none.

Jongdae stands there, indecisive before finally deciding he's already screwed up with Chanyeol so it's not as if he could make it worse. Where's the harm in trying? (There's a _lot_ of harm actually, but Jongdae assuages his worries by convincing himself Chanyeol is going to throw him out before Jongdae can turn things into a total disaster.)

Still, something holds him back when he reaches Chanyeol's apartment, poised to announce his presence, but faltering. There's a good chance Chanyeol isn't even home; he has a job instead of going to school, opting to jump into the workforce to move out on his own instead of staying at home. Chanyeol's always had the luxury of his own freedoms. It came with being raised by a sterile couple after his own parents died when he was young. He loves them dearly, but Chanyeol's always craved getting out into the world and he's smart enough to have landed a steady job in energy efficiency upgrading research.

Jongdae sighs, running both hands through his hair, gripping it tight at the roots, and pulling before trying to pat the strands down again. His stomach is twisted in a knot and his throat feels like it's closing up and he needs to make a decision _now_. Jongdae uses the last dregs of his courage to press the intercom, listening as the dull bell goes off inside.

Jongdae fidgets anxiously, resting his weight on one foot then the other, opting not to wait too long. Chanyeol's probably not home anyway.

The door slides open with a _whoosh_ and Jongdae is face-to-face with a surprised Chanyeol. "Jongdae?"

"I'm sorry if I'm bothering you," Jongdae nervously starts, "I just didn't know where else to go."

"No, no, it's fine. Come in."

Chanyeol backs up enough for Jongdae to fit through the doorway and Jongdae feels small, insignificant suddenly. With his shoes left beside the door, Jongdae is ushered into a small living room, sinking into the soft brown couch as Chanyeol takes the chair beside him.

"I'm surprised you came back at all," Chanyeol voices and Jongdae tilts his head at him, confused. "I mean we were drunk and I know you never -" Chanyeol stops, frowning and staring at his clasped hands in his lap.

"I was a dumb kid," Jongdae admits. "I didn't know what I wanted. We were always different that way. You always knew exactly what it was you wanted and you went for it."

"And look where that got me," Chanyeol jests, but there's a pain there just beneath the surface. Jongdae feels about a thousand percent worse.

“Sorry,” Jongdae mumbles, wondering how many times he’s going to be apologizing today.

“ _I_ should be the one saying that,” Chanyeol says, a tight smile on his face.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“But last night - I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you that way.”

Jongdae snorts out a laugh unintentionally. “And I thought _I_ was the one taking advantage of _you_.”

Chanyeol seems to relax, his shoulders drooping and a hand ruffling through his messy hair. “I guess it goes both ways then.”

“Mutual usery,” Jongdae agrees, relieved Chanyeol isn’t pissed at him. And Jongdae just can’t stop himself. “Maybe we could do it again,” he suggests. “Sober this time.”

Chanyeol goes still, his eyes fixated on Jongdae’s mouth and Jongdae really has no idea why that just slipped out, but his heart is racing and his palms smooth over his thighs nervously. He’s prepared to _really_ get tossed out by his ear now, already preparing for a hasty retreat, but he’s blocked. Jongdae finds himself on his back, Chanyeol over him on the couch and _wow_ this is a great view.

“You can’t say something like that and not mean it,” Chanyeol says, his voice several octaves lower than usual. It sends a shiver down Jongdae’s spine.

Jongdae leans up on an elbow, his face close enough to Chanyeol’s to feel his breath, see the way his pupils have expanded. “I never joke about great sex.”

Now that there’s no liquid courage running through his veins, Jongdae is a little more hesitant when it comes to touching, but Chanyeol definitely is not. He keeps stealing Jongdae’s breath, touching him with steady hands that burn hot on bare skin and put Jongdae right where he wants him.

All self consciousness has dissipated by the time they’re naked, Jongdae muttering a premature apology into the arm of the couch for intentions of messing up the upholstery as Chanyeol presses inside him from behind. Chanyeol laughs, his chest vibrating and Jongdae can feel it on his back when Chanyeol drapes over him, holding Jongdae’s hands still with his own. It feels amazing, Jongdae’s arms going lax, his ass pushing higher into the air when Chanyeol fucks into him hot and hard. The couch isn’t really wide enough for them both and Chanyeol has to brace a leg on the floor, but it changes the angle and Jongdae moans loud.

It’s better than Jongdae remembers; Chanyeol gives no recourse even as Jongdae cries out, nails digging into the couch as he clenches around Chanyeol’s cock. The constant slide in and out is slick and unyielding, fucking Jongdae open deeper and deeper. His spine bends downward, his eyes rolling back in his head and Jongdae comes untouched on Chanyeol’s soft, pretty couch.

Chanyeol grunts as Jongdae’s muscles flutter around him, snapping his hips hard enough to leave Jongdae’s thighs stinging before he comes. Jongdae nearly collapses if not for Chanyeol’s arm around his middle catching him. It sends a pang of longing through Jongdae’s chest which is odd considering Chanyeol is physically still inside him and there’s nothing to long _for_.

“Can you stay for dinner?” Chanyeol asks.

Jongdae laughs with his entire body. He laughs harder when Chanyeol hisses because he’s squeezing his dick. “Yeah,” Jongdae manages to get out. “Dinner would be great.”

 

It’s a rare thing for Jongdae to wander into the living room where his parents are talking without intending to walk out the front door. They look over at him curiously as Jongdae sits on the opposite couch.

“This . . . engagement with Lu Han,” he begins, his stomach rebelling with a traitorous flip, “is it final? I know you want me to marry and I understand where you’re coming from, but does it have to be him?”

Jongdae’s father narrows his eyes while his dad looks him over thoughtfully.

“It’s already been set in motion. We can’t back out now,” his father says, not even bothering to take the edge off his words.

“But what if I found someone else? Wouldn’t that be good enough?”

“The Lus are a respectable family,” his dad answers. “Their genetic line is predisposed to birth fertile female children. Joining our families is mutually beneficial.”

“Not for me,” Jongdae insists, trying to keep himself calm. He doesn’t want another strike across the cheek.

“We gave you ample opportunities -

“With suitors _you_ picked out. That’s not ample, that is stacking the odds in your favor. I’m telling you I’ve found someone on my _own_ that I want to marry.”

“No.”

Jongdae stands, fists balled at his sides. “You never intended for me to choose anyway. You always said I could pick, but my only options available were people you’d already screened and approved.” His father’s face is stern, unyielding, but his dad looks guilty, refusing to meet Jongdae’s eyes. He laughs, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have expected you to _really_ be on my side. After all, it’s only ever about _your_ name.”

“Jongdae!” his father yells. “That is _enough_. You’ve had your fun and it’s time for you to settle down. Don’t blame us for your failings.”

“The only one I see here who failed is you,” he spits and then Jongdae is gone, out the door with so much rage knotted in his stomach that he cries, wiping furiously at his eyes. He feels betrayed, used, like his very existence was only to raise the family name.

He races to Kyungsoo’s house, letting his friend usher him inside despite the unannounced arrival. Kyungsoo knows Jongdae is supposed to be at the Lus later and doesn’t ask questions as Jongdae clings to him silently, shoulders shaking.

 

Jongdae is on dangerous ground. He’s standing in the Lu’s massive garden, not really taking in the scenery because his mind is elsewhere. Inside, there are two sets of parents happily discussing arrangements for the upcoming nuptials. Reality is settling in the foundations of his fantasies now, uprooting all of Jongdae’s would-bes and replacing them with inevitables. Jongdae can only hope he gets off easy with a small, short ceremony and nothing too gaudy. It’s guaranteed some of his father’s political allies will be in attendance, but he doesn’t particularly want the entire council staring at him from behind like they did at Joonmyun’s wedding. (Of course, Joonmyun was too enraptured with Yifan to notice, but Jongdae did.)

Han is flittering about somewhere, steadfastly avoiding Jongdae now that there’s no one around to force them to stay together. Jongdae had, at least, given him a half-hearted attempt at an apology for the last time and Han had muttered out one that sounded just as genuine before they went separate ways. This isn’t the relationship Jongdae wants.

He finds himself thinking about Chanyeol despite himself. Their dinner had been comfortable, happy even and Jongdae misses that. He misses how he feels when he’s with someone who cares about him and he doesn’t know if it’s specifically Chanyeol he wants or that type of open, consensual relationship. He knows he was grasping at strings even thinking about marrying Chanyeol, but Jongdae _knows_ he could live with Chanyeol and be happy. Now even that chance has been dashed, but he can’t help himself. He knows what he’s doing with Chanyeol is wrong and it’s going to hurt them both in the end and yet he’s too selfish to give it up.

Jongdae makes it through the afternoon relatively unscathed, his ego nursing a few bruises after Han snubbed him with a scrunched nose that made him look almost exactly like his mother when she’d inspected a few color swatches for the tablecloths. Jongdae doesn’t even know why they need tablecloths. If he had his way, they’d just thumbprint the damn document and get it over with.

It’s after dark when they arrive home and Jongdae is emotionally exhausted. His parents don’t seem to notice his mood or the fact that he leaves, headed to the one place he’s been thinking about all day.

Chanyeol doesn’t seem quite as surprised to see him this time, drawing Jongdae in with a hug. “One more time,” he begs, clinging to Chanyeol. “Please, just one more time, Chanyeol.”

It becomes a habit, an addiction. Every night he finds himself standing in Chanyeol’s apartment, struggling with himself as he asks Chanyeol to make him forget about everything. And Chanyeol does. Chanyeol cherishes Jongdae with his hands, worships him with his tongue, fucks him open nearly everywhere in his apartment. Jongdae finds himself bent over the small dining table, sat on top of the kitchen counter with his legs around Chanyeol’s waist, hefted against several walls, and pressed deep into a soft mattress as Chanyeol takes him however Jongdae asks him to. Sometimes he wants it hard; most of the time he wants it hard. Jongdae wants his teeth to clack and his bones to rattle with the force of Chanyeol driving his cock into him.

But not tonight.

Tonight, Jongdae wants it slow, sweet. His face is pressed to Chanyeol’s neck, arms looped around Chanyeol’s shoulders to hold on as he lifts and drops on Chanyeol’s cock. There are tears stinging in his eyes, his mouth thick with everything he’s left unsaid and is afraid to speak. Chanyeol holds him reverently, knowing this is the last time.

Jongdae is getting married tomorrow.

Kyungsoo had taken Jongdae out earlier for drinks to calm his nerves, but Jongdae barely drank anything while Kyungsoo drank enough for the both of them. He’d left Kyungsoo nearly passed out on his bed before slipping away to see Chanyeol.

Chanyeol takes Jongdae’s hand, squeezes their linked fingers and Jongdae feels the first tear slide hot down his face. He sniffles, trying to be discreet and Chanyeol notices despite his efforts. When Chanyeol tries to pull him away to look at him, Jongdae shakes his head and clings tighter, sitting on Chanyeol’s cock and rotating his hips in circles until Chanyeol is grabbing his hips, coaxing him to move up and down again.

It’s the oddest feeling, this heartbreaking sensation that claws at him even as he shudders in pleasure when Chanyeol thrusts into him harder, deeper. It’s so good, so so _good_ and Jongdae’s toes curl, his thighs tensing as he goes a little faster, panting a little harder as Chanyeol gradually picks up speed. Chanyeol kisses across Jongdae’s shoulder and up his neck, careful not to leave any lingering marks. In turn, Jongdae leaves four red scratches from one shoulder blade to the other on Chanyeol’s back when he comes, moaning Chanyeol’s name against his neck.

Chanyeol holds him carefully, gently as Jongdae slumps after, his body pulsing and thoughts chaotic. And Jongdae hates himself.

He leaves after Chanyeol falls asleep, dropping a kiss on the corner of his mouth with a whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Jongdae won’t be back.


	2. Two

The first thing Jongdae hears when he wakes is how terrible he looks. Joonmyun is looming over him, clearly unimpressed with the dark circles under Jongdae’s eyes from his fitful sleeping and Jongdae slumps back on his pillow, mumbling about how they’ll have to reschedule the wedding for a day when he looks prettier. Joonmyun manhandles him to his feet anyway.

Jongdae’s room is empty save for the furniture, the rest of his life already packed up and sitting somewhere in the house he’ll be forced to call his home for the foreseeable future. It doesn’t feel right being in here with it so bare.

“Come on,” Joonmyun sighs, hefting Jongdae’s weight and leading him to the door. “Let’s get you ready.”

The only thing worse than wearing all white is the seafoam green color of the vest that goes over his formal shirt - complete with matching bowtie. Jongdae stares at himself in the mirror, mouth twisted and hands clenching and relaxing at his sides. “Is this what my life has come to? A bowtie?” He pulls at the fabric only to have his hand slapped away by his brother.

“If you’d taken more of an interest in planning, you could have picked the color,” Joonmyun jests and Jongdae sneers at him, petulantly sticking out his tongue. Laughing, Joonmyun threatens to knock Jongdae’s jaw closed so he bites his tongue and the playfulness helps calm Jongdae a bit, some of the pressure lifting off his shoulders. “You’re going to be great,” Joonmyun tells him, pulling Jongdae into a hug.

Jongdae sincerely wishes he could believe it.

The reception hall being used for the ceremony is decorated in white and that hideous green, and Jongdae’s stomach lurches the closer he gets to the end of the hall, waiting for all the guests to take their seats. Joonmyun leaves him at the door with a reassuring smile that does nothing for his nerves, giving Jongdae a view of way too many people in the main room. _Small_ he remembers his dad saying, stomach dropping to the floor. If he’s going to be signing away his freedom, he would prefer to do it with as little an audience as possible.

He fidgets, pulling at the hem of his vest as he waits for fate to come thundering in with a finality he can’t escape.

The door doesn’t open again until Jongdae’s father stands in front of it to guide Jongdae straight forward to the center of the room. He rather thinks the reason his father is the one guiding him is so Jongdae doesn’t try to make a run for it. His feet are already itching to go, eyes darting around aimlessly to find the nearest exit, but they’re all manned by a pair of guards. That’s unfair.

Jongdae doesn’t look ahead at what’s waiting for him until his father grabs his arm to stop him, turning him to the front of the room. There’s a narrow table in front of him with an ominous tablet sitting in the middle. On the other side, the officiant looks as if he couldn’t escape the curse of the seafoam green either, a swath of it draped around his neck to fall below his waist.

Jongdae finally hazards a look to his side, noting the tense clenching of Han’s jaw, the strong grip his own father has on his arm to keep him still. The bastard managed to get away with an actual tie instead of a bowtie. Jongdae’s going to complain loudly at his dad for this atrocity. But right now, his attention is called to the man now beginning his rehearsed speech, greeting everyone who has come to witness the death of Jongdae’s will - a marriage between two houses, both alike in dignity or something just as poetically disastrous.

Jongdae doesn’t know if it’s reassuring or alarming that Han is just as against this union as he is. It’s common ground, but not likely to be what brings them together.

If this were anyone else’s wedding, Jongdae would remark on the vacuous promises that are required - fidelity, compassion, dedication to each other for the rest of their natural lives. Their vows should lay in the realm of getting to know each other and finding redeemable qualities so the entire relationship doesn’t go up in a cloud of smoke and fire. Jongdae repeats back what he’s told without emotion, refusing to meet Han’s eyes. His father makes a noise of disapproval and if Jongdae could get away with it, he’d turn to reciprocate with a withering glare.

He may be forced into this marriage, but that doesn’t mean he’ll pretend to be pleased about it just for the sake of the family image. There’s only so much Jongdae can take and acting has never been in his repertoire.

The final nail in Jongdae’s coffin is at the end, him and Han pressing their thumbs to the tablet at the same time, validating and officially registering their marriage. Jongdae already feels like he’s choking even as the audience behind him claps and cheers, unaware or uncaring that this is not a happy occasion.

Before Jongdae can think, he’s being led around the table and to a small room, Han beside him. They stand inside awkwardly, avoiding each other as the officiant joins them, a familiar box in his hand. Jongdae looks at his father. “Is this necessary?” he asks. All he gets is a stern look before the door closes and he’s left with Han, the man who doomed him, and a terrifying box.

Obediently, Jongdae rolls up the sleeve of his shirt, Han doing the same as the box is opened. Inside there are two cuffs, one for each of them, that are similar to the identity bracelets, but with a different use. The metal is cool when it’s fastened around Jongdae’s upper arm, beeping once it’s activated and a red light coming to life on the underside. Han’s does the same.

“I’m sure you both know what these are for, but I’m required by law to inform you. These cuffs will remain connected to you both for the duration of today and your wedding night. Upon consummation of your marriage, the light will turn from red to green. Failure to consummate a marriage within the first twenty-four hours will deem the marriage void and must be repeated.”

Jongdae and Han both have to push their thumbs to the screen to read their prints in acknowledgement.

“Congratulations!” the small man announces, clapping his hands. He shuffles out of the room and for the first time today, Jongdae meets Han’s eyes.

Han drops his gaze first, reaching out to take Jongdae by the arm and lead him out and into the room full of family and friends and freeloaders. “Come on,” Han says lowly, but not forcefully, guiding them over to where their parents are waiting with giant grins on their faces.

Jongdae’s cuff chafes and his wrist feels hot from where Han had been holding it until Han is drawn into a tearful hug by his mother. There’s a flurry of people around them, too many hands clapping Jongdae on the back and too many congratulatory wishes. It all makes Jongdae woozy and just a little bit nauseous.

Kyungsoo, being the wonderful person he is, weasels his way to Jongdae and leads him out of the crowd, holding up a flute of champagne for Jongdae to take. He drinks it all down immediately and Kyungsoo just sighs, a look of concern on his face. Normally this is where Kyungsoo would make some remark about Jongdae’s situation, but he holds his tongue and Jongdae appreciates that more than he could ever say.

“You don’t look like you’re going to throw up anymore, so that’s a step up,” Kyungsoo remarks when he takes the empty glass.

“I still feel like it,” Jongdae grumbles, glancing over his shoulder as the last of the chairs are flipped into the floor and tables filled with refreshments and drinks are spread along the walls.

“Just relax,” Kyungsoo suggests, grabbing Jongdae’s hand and smoothing over his knuckles with his thumb.

“Easy for you to say,” Jongdae sighs, wondering if it would be socially acceptable to make off with an unopened bottle of champagne instead of knocking back a dozen flutes of it.

“It’s not all bad,” Kyungsoo muses and Jongdae follows Kyungsoo’s line of sight to where Han is standing by Joonmyun now, conversing in low tones. “At least he’s handsome. Maybe you’ll warm up to him.”

Jongdae tilts his head, watching as Han laughs with Joonmyun, his face wide and expressive and unlike Jongdae’s ever seen. It irks him that Han can get along so well with others, but turns a cold eye toward him. “Doubtful.”

“Come on, let’s go find someone to take your mind off this travesty of a marriage.”

“Like who? Joonmyun is occupied with my new husband and I’d rather not cavort with my father’s political acquaintances.”

Kyungsoo grins at Jongdae like he has a secret, leaning close. “But _I_ invited Chanyeol. Let’s see if he showed up. It’s time for you two to make up so you have another friend to help you through these trying times.”

Jongdae feels all the blood drain from his face and his grip on Kyungsoo’s hand tightens enough for Kyungsoo to pull away. “You did _what_?”

“You needed the support,” Kyungsoo nearly yelps, pulling his hand free. “You can’t possibly hold a grudge for this long.”

Jongdae pulls Kyungsoo toward a secluded corner now that people are beginning to spread out around them. “I ran into Chanyeol just over a week ago and I’ve been having sex with him every night since,” Jongdae hisses.

Kyungsoo’s eyes widen and his jaw drops, gaping at Jongdae for a pointed moment. “Well...was he good?”

“Kyungsoo!”

“I’m sorry, that was inappropriate given your current emotional pain.” Kyungsoo rocks back on his heels. “But really, how was he?”

Jongdae feels the color rushing quickly back into his cheeks at the thought of Chanyeol and he bites his lip, giving himself away.

Kyungsoo makes a soft noise of victory. “I knew it.”

Jongdae blinks at his friend. “And how long have you been thinking about Chanyeol’s prowess in bed?”

Kyungsoo shrugs, looking over Jongdae’s shoulder with a knowing grin. “Oops, looks like we have company.” Jongdae turns, heart leaping up his throat as Chanyeol weaves his way through the crowd and toward the pair. “I’ll just leave you two alone.”

Jongdae finds himself backed into a corner with no escape. Chanyeol is wearing his polite smile, the one that never reaches his eyes. Chanyeol doesn’t say anything, merely runs a finger along the edge of Jongdae’s horrible vest. “This color is terrible.”

Jongdae huffs out a laugh. “I didn’t pick it out.” Jongdae feels fuzzy, distracted and he tilts his head up at Chanyeol. “I can’t believe you actually came.”

Chanyeol shrugs, his broad shoulders filling out his shirt nicely. “I was feeling particularly masochistic this morning so I decided why not attend the wedding of the only man I ever loved.”

Jongdae’s face falls and he feels like he’s been punched in the gut, unable to breathe. “Chanyeol,” he says, voice cracking and Chanyeol nods, backing away a little.

“It’s alright. I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

Jongdae stands there, hands shaking as he stares at Chanyeol, wishing there had been some other way. Someone walks by with a tray of drinks and Chanyeol plucks two of them off, handing one to Jongdae and raising his own. “Maybe in our next life,” Chanyeol toasts. And that’s definitely something Jongdae can drink to.

 

Jongdae, despite his brother constantly slipping sparkling white grape juice into his glass instead of champagne, still manages to get tipsy during his reception. At one point, Han catches him from falling, righting Jongdae with an almost worried look on his face before he releases him. Jongdae falls back against one of the tables to steady himself, heart pounding and head spinning.

The only thing that doesn’t seem to warm up along with Jongdae is the metal cuff around his arm. It seems determined to remind him of its presence, a silent countdown to the moment when he’ll be ushered into his new home and expected to get intimate with a man who would probably rather drown him. And the feeling is mutual.

Time moves too quickly. One minute Jongdae is saying a fond farewell to Kyungsoo’s ass, patting it affectionately, and in the next, he’s tripping over the boxes by the door in his house, Han following with far more grace. Han wraps an arm around Jongdae’s waist, muttering something under his breath as Jongdae leans back on him, momentarily too out of it to care that it’s _Han_ touching him, guiding him down an unfamiliar hallway toward their unused bedroom.

Either the room is spinning or he is.

Jongdae lands mostly on the mattress with an _oomph_ , admiring how soft the duvet feels on his forehead before flipping over onto his back. The ceiling is stationary at least and he looks toward the foot of the bed where Han is sliding off his shoes. “Is this full service?” he jests, forgetting the company he’s in.

Han sighs, standing to deposit their shoes by the bedroom door - presumably to be taken down to their proper place by the front door later. Jongdae lifts onto an elbow, intrigued at the way Han fits his fingers under his tie to loosen it, pulling at the end until it comes undone and he drapes it on the dresser. His vest comes off next and Jongdae finds his mouth going dry at the way Han’s muscles work under his shirt, the veins on his hands entrancing as he begins taking off his shirt.

“Come on,” Jongdae says, although it’s not much of an order. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Han’s eyes flash with something dark and Jongdae smirks, laying back on the bed to run a palm down his chest and to his pants. He grabs his dick through the fabric and grinds up, letting out a showy moan that seems to get his desired reaction. Han is already shirtless when he gets to Jongdae, crawling over him and pulling his hand away to pin his wrists to the mattress.

“All you ever seem to be able to do is drive me crazy,” Han growls, his face hovering just over Jongdae’s.

“So put the crazy to good use and fuck me already.” Jongdae bucks his hips, mostly in an attempt to get Han off of him because he’s feeling too hot, beginning to sweat. Han, however, doesn’t budge. He glares down at Jongdae, fingers tightening around his wrists until it hurts, but Jongdae merely stares back, daring Han to do something.

What he does is lift off Jongdae enough to flip him over, Jongdae’s world spinning dangerously as he groans into the duvet. He’s still trying to gain his bearings when there are hands on his sides, pulling at his pants until they - and his underwear - slide over the curve of his ass and down his thighs. The air in the room feels cold and he shivers, breath hitching when Han’s hands are on his bare skin this time, hot and demanding as they push his shirt up to his armpits then drag back down to his ass.

A resounding slap echoes in the room as Jongdae hisses, recoiling from the sting spreading over the side of his thigh. “I signed up for sex,” Jongdae grunts, trying to work his pants down from his knees, “not whatever kinky shit you’re into.”

“Do you ever stop talking?” Han asks, rhetorically of course, which is why Jongdae answers.

“If you would hurry the fuck up - “

Han wraps his fingers around the back of Jongdae’s neck and pushes his face into the bed, muffling his words. “Shut. Up.” He has to let go to get his own pants down, vacating the bed in search of the lube. Jongdae thinks about arguing positions, asserting his preference for taking turns, but he’s too exhausted - and tipsy - to fight over whose dick is going where; he’ll just take it tonight to avoid a confrontation and sleep off the ache.

Jongdae finally wrestles his pants the rest of the way to the floor, deeming it too much of an effort to wriggle out of his shirt. The more he moves, the more alcohol burns off and he doesn’t want to be sober for this.

Han is efficient, clinical when he opens Jongdae up with his fingers, pushing two in at once and adding a third after Jongdae’s knuckles fade from white from gripping the cover so tightly. And even so, Jongdae’s cock is hard, hanging heavy between his legs and he pushes back on Han’s fingers, groaning when they twist, crooking just right.

It isn’t until Han’s cock is pushing into him that Jongdae thinks about a condom; and then he remembers the entire point of this union is to breed, so he simply enjoys the bare skin of Han’s dick as it stretches him open. He’s definitely thicker than Chanyeol, but not as long. Jongdae has to force that image out of his head, concentrate on this moment because he doesn’t need to be thinking about Chanyeol right now.

Han fucks Jongdae hard and swift, narrow hips slapping against Jongdae’s ass with every thrust. Jongdae doesn’t want to admit it’s good, but it is. The pleasure winds around him, curls upward from his groin and into his veins, locking around his limbs. He uses his grasp on the duvet to push back, legs spreading wider to take Han’s cock in deeper.

If this were Chanyeol - if this were anyone except for Han - Jongdae would be encouraging him, complimenting the way he grabs Jongdae’s hips to move him where he wants him, how he wants him. But this _is_ Han and Jongdae just wants a little vindication that Han is lacking. And yet. . . 

Jongdae moans loud, sweat trailing down his temples and thighs tensing from how well he’s being fucked. Han doesn’t make much noise, but Jongdae can feel his cock swelling further inside him, can feel the sting from Han’s nails digging into his hips to speed him up. Ragged breathing fills the room, Jongdae’s punctuated by soft noises that could almost be mistaken for whimpers of pleasure, and Han moving accordingly. If something makes Jongdae louder, Han sticks with it. He’s a courteous lover and that’s information Jongdae stores away for later use.

Jongdae releases the fabric twisted in his fingers to wrap them around his cock, hips stuttering in their rhythm at the sudden rush of pleasure from the friction of his dry hand. He tugs and pulls at himself, trying to keep up, but his knees keep sliding further apart from sweat and he’s lost in the momentum that’s sending him careening toward the end.

Han finishes first, his weight falling on his hands over Jongdae, hips grinding his cock deep into Jongdae’s ass as he fills him up with come. He’s loud when he comes, an almost primal noise ripped from his throat and Jongdae climaxes with it reverberating in his ears, his thighs aching and throat sore from breathing so heavily. Han is sweaty, his chest pressing against Jongdae’s back and Jongdae’s still pulsing, still shooting ropes of come on their brand new bed when Han speaks. “At least I figured out how to shut you up.”

Han gets off the bed, headed for the bathroom as Jongdae droops to the side, his dirty hand around his cock. The aftershocks are still rushing through him and his head is fuzzy and he wishes he had the energy to punch Han right in his pretty face. Instead, Jongdae peels his shirt off, ignoring the sound of the shower turning on in their bathroom.

Han doesn’t close the door when he showers, filling their bedroom with unnecessary light and Jongdae pulls the sheets over his head, the soiled duvet kicked to the floor along with his shirt that he’d used to clean the mess on his hand. It’s only with the aid of the alcohol in his system that Jongdae finally falls asleep, curled into a ball in his new bed, feeling small and helpless along this unknown path he’s been set upon.

 

Jongdae is spread eagle on the bed when he wakes up in the morning, the curtains closed and house silent. There’s a dull pounding in his head, one he’s beginning to find all too familiar as of late, and he groans, rolling onto his stomach. He turns his face to breathe, eyes drawn to the green light on the cuff still attached to his arm. That’s when last night’s events catch up to him.

The accompanying nausea is either because of the drinking or Han, and he’s willing to bet the two colluded just to make his life more difficult.

Shuffling from outside the bedroom has Jongdae peering over curiously as Han walks in, a pair of cotton pants low on his hips and a glass of water in his hand. He sets it on the nightstand for Jongdae and takes a step back, scratching just beneath where his cuff is digging into his skin. “Thanks,” Jongdae rasps, rolling naked in the sheets to get to it, his mouth parched.

It does nothing for the taste glued to his tongue, but it soothes the ache in his throat. Jongdae drinks it all, hoping it will help with his headache too. Too much champagne and not enough water to wash it down.

The doorbell echoing throughout the house has Jongdae jolting, pulling the sheets up his chest in fright. He wasn’t expecting intruders until much later, but he also doesn’t know how long they slept. Han silently pads out of the room as Jongdae fights to put on his pants from last night; he doesn’t know where any of his boxes of clothes are yet and he’s not going to take the time to go digging when they have company.

The stairs are a challenge in his state, but Jongdae makes it down without tumbling so he calls that a win. He rounds the corner to the living room, stopping short with a sigh when he sees his dad and the officiant from his wedding standing in the doorway. Han’s cuff is already off and he’s rubbing the spot as he walks back inside after thanking them. Jongdae is next, ignoring the curious, expectant gaze his dad is giving him.

It’s a relief when the cuff comes off and the officiant congratulates him, once again, on his marriage before leaving.

“You’ve done well,” his dad says.

Jongdae, unable to deal with this so early in the day, presses the button to close the door in his dad’s face. He knows he’ll be in for an earful later, but the gratification he gets from seeing his dad’s surprised face through the viewer is enough to make his entire day.

Jongdae wipes at his eyes, cringing when he walks as come trickles down his leg uncomfortably. Now that he’s awake, he can feel every little thing that hurts - his hips, his neck, his thighs, his ass. There’s so much and he hobbles toward the stairs, taking them slowly all the way back to his bedroom. Han’s already there, rifling through some of the boxes and Jongdae hesitates only a second before heading into their bathroom for a long hot bath. He doesn’t have anything to change into after, but Han’s already seen him naked - has already fucked him in the name of marriage and reproduction - so he can deal with Jongdae walking around naked too.

Unlike Han, Jongdae has the mind to close the bathroom door before he turns on the water, setting the temperature high. He inspects himself as he waits for the tub to fill; there are red crescents littering his hips and a few extra bruises on his thighs to go with the fading ones from . . . before. He also looks hungover with his pale face and the dark circles under his mildly bloodshot eyes.

The water stops, filling the bathroom with an echoing silence. Jongdae tests it with his toes, sighing in bliss as the rest of him slowly slides in after, laying almost flat with his head on the cushioned pad at the end. It burns a little, the heat too much in the beginning, but the more he languishes, the better it feels. The hot water pulls the ache from his bones, relaxes him enough to allow a little optimism over his new situation to filter through.

Clearly Han finds him attractive enough to have sex with him, and Jongdae has to admit that Han’s physically attractive too even if his personality leaves much to be desired. Perhaps they can work around that, stay civil with each other long enough to find common ground and expand from there. Jongdae doesn’t want to spend the rest of his life tip-toeing around someone who hates him.

His skin is wrinkly when Jongdae finally steps out of the tub, the water swirling down the drain. The air that dries him is warm, and yet he’s still covered in goosebumps when he opens the bathroom door and steps into his bedroom to search for clothes. Han isn’t there.

It takes a while to find his pants - probably his dad’s doing because along the way he discovered a small box by their bed with a giant bow on top and it was full of sex toys. (Jongdae genuinely hopes it at least wasn’t Joonmyun’s doing.) Jongdae feels so much better, loose and expectant when he descends the stairs, his stomach growling at him for food. He takes a quick look around to find boxes stacked in every room, but no sign of Han.

There isn’t a note on the refrigerator, but Jongdae checks the log on the door to see Han left twenty minutes ago. Sighing, he shuffles back into the kitchen for a late breakfast.

 

Han doesn’t come home in time for lunch. Or dinner.

Jongdae leaves a plate of food for him and a note as a peace offering before he goes to bed.

 

It’s disorienting in the morning when Jongdae wakes, blinking an unfamiliar room into view before it falls into place. He turns to look at the other side of the bed to see Han sitting on the edge of the mattress, his back to Jongdae.

“Morning,” Jongdae croaks.

Han startles, and looks at Jongdae over his shoulder. “Didn’t mean to wake you. I’m going out and I won’t be back until later. Don’t wait up.”

And with that, Han is pushing off, leaving Jongdae to watch as he hurriedly dresses and slips out of the bedroom without any further explanation. Jongdae is a molotov cocktail of emotions after a few minutes of stewing. He’s infuriated, sad, kinda happy and mostly insulted Han would rather sneak out before he gets up and slink back after Jongdae goes to bed just to avoid him. He knows they didn’t get off on the right foot, but nothing is ever going to get fixed with Han’s pathetic avoidance tactics.

Unpacking is boring; Jongdae spent most of the previous day putting away things and opening wedding presents alone (because Han didn’t fucking deserve the honor of helping if he was going to leave Jongdae alone the day after his wedding). It doesn’t take long before he’s whining at Joonmyun to come over and entertain him.

“Well this is depressing,” Joonmyun remarks when he sees the gray couch and matching sofa in the living room, eyes scouring the place only to find more gray.

“Dad,” Jongdae sighs. “He’s the only person to ever actually enjoy the color. Now I’m living in a colorless nightmare. It’s as if dad walked into a room and sucked the fun right out of it”

Joonmyun clucks his tongue and pokes around the place until he finds the poorly stocked kitchen. “This is actually the saddest thing I’ve ever seen,” he says when he looks inside the refrigerator. “Let’s go to the market.”

At least with Joonmyun, their arms looped together, Jongdae doesn’t feel unwanted and forgotten. He lets his brother lead them through the largest marketplace in the city. There are rows and rows of fresh produce - fruits and vegetables, meats and cheeses. Jongdae tries to steer them toward the candies, but gets a pinch on the side and a glare from Joonmyun instead. He huffs, acting put out as Joonmyun begins checking for ripe cantaloupes.

The only thing Jongdae has to do, aside from complain about his feet and the amount of food Joonmyun puts in the cart because two people can’t possibly eat that much, is pay for it all. He’s still grumbling about the dent in his savings as he reads off the amount left on his bracelet, trailing after his brother on the way to the car.

Jongdae doesn’t like to admit it, but he really looks up to Joonmyun. His brother has his life together; he knows what he wants to do for a career, he’s ridiculously in love with his husband who dotes on him constantly, people generally like him _and_ he knows how to cook. They were never allowed greasy food in their home growing up and the first thing Joonmyun learned to cook when he moved out was fried chicken. (Their cousin Jongin had eagerly agreed to teach him.)

Jongdae watches in awe as Joonmyun takes a battered piece of chicken and puts it in the frying pan, bouncing back a step to keep from getting popped by the simmering oil that comes to life. Jongdae watches from a safe distance, cutting slices of apple from the core as an appetizer.

“If you always cook like this, it’s no wonder Yifan’s getting soft around the middle,” Jongdae teases, rubbing his own tummy.

Joonmyun grins, probably visualizing his husband naked. “He’s not _that_ soft. Plus, I like having something to hold on to when -”

Jongdae chokes on his apple, holding up his hand as he sputters for Joonmyun to stop. “I really don’t want to know,” he wheezes through coughs.

Joonmyun just grins and flips the chicken.

 

Jongdae leaves some of the chicken for Han, knowing he’d eaten last night’s food.

 

It’s disheartening to go to bed alone and then wake up alone when there’s supposed to be someone there. Jongdae may not be the easiest person to get along with, but how is he even supposed to try when Han is absent. He foregoes breakfast in lieu of tea. He and Joonmyun had picked up several types of tea at the market and Jongdae opts for the jasmine pearl green tea.

There’s a blinking alert on the refrigerator that Jongdae notices after rinsing his cup. He taps the red alert notice and sees that he and Han are supposed to have dinner with Han’s parents later. Jongdae groans, his stomach twisting and limbs drooping. Visiting the in-laws is everything he _doesn’t_ want to do.

Han arrives home with just enough time to spare to change into a better shirt before they leave. Jongdae keeps silent, saving his frustrations for after they’re back at home and he’ll finally get some time with Han. All he has to do is make it through the evening.

To his surprise, his own parents are there too and Jongdae thinks maybe things won’t be so bad. Then again, he’s been wrong about everything else lately, so why not this too? They don’t even get halfway through the main course - a nice roasted duck - before the bomb drops.

“Were you planning to continue your schooling after a baby is born, or will you be staying at home full time?” Han’s mother asks.

Jongdae really doesn’t have an answer for that. He hadn’t given it much thought seeing as so many of the student population simply stay in classes through the holograms. “I’m already registered for next semester,” he answers. “I don’t see why I would need to take a break.”

There’s silence around the table, almost as if Jongdae has said something unforgivable.

“And you’re allowing this, Han?” Han’s father asks.

There’s a small explosion of rage that goes off inside Jongdae’s chest - one that’s been smoking for a while - and he stands abruptly, chair legs scraping over the floor. “I am a grown man and I don’t _need_ his permission to continue my education,” he spits. “I’m married, not _enslaved_.”

“We only want what’s best for the child,” his own dad explains.

Jongdae shakes his head. “For a child that doesn’t exist yet - a nonexistent child whose needs you’re putting over mine. There’s no harm in returning to school when Han won’t even touch me, so there’s no possibility for a baby.”

Jongdae spins on his heel and storms out the door, ignoring everyone calling his name until the front door is shut behind him and the evening air hits him in the face. He’s so tense, so utterly _pissed off_ at the entire situation. The best thing to do, for all of them, is for Jongdae to cool off.

The walk to his new home isn’t as long as he’d like, but at least there’s no one there to yell at him. He sits in the darkness, knees to his chin as he sinks into the plush couch cushion. His heart is still pitter-pattering and his arms are wrapped tight around his knees, eyes squeezed shut to keep everything out.

Jongdae doesn’t know how long he sits there before Han gets home. The lights stay off and Jongdae listens as Han pauses behind him. A warm hand lands on Jongdae’s shoulder, fingers pressing into this skin comfortingly. “Come on,” Han whispers. “Let’s go to bed.”

 

Jongdae doesn’t know why he’d expected Han to be there beside him in bed the next morning, but there’s a disappointed swooping in his gut when he turns to find half the bed cold and empty. He screams into his pillow and holds back the tears of frustration that sting along the corners of his eyes. Han isn’t worth it.

He longs for the days when his greatest worry was if he had time for breakfast before his morning class or whether or not Kyungsoo was willing to listen to him whine about another failed blind date. He’d never thought it possible to feel this alone after being used to it, but this is a different kind of loneliness. It eats at him, has Jongdae shattering a cup in the sink just to watch the pieces fall.

Jongdae video calls Kyungsoo, watching as his friend - who loves sleeping in more than anything - rubs his eyes to wipe away the exhaustion. “This better be good,” Kyungsoo yawns.

Jongdae feels mildly guilty when he sees movement behind Kyungsoo, someone rolling out of his bed. “I’m alone and going mad. Save me.”

Kyungsoo glances back at the figure behind him for a moment before sighing. “I’ll be right over, but you owe me breakfast.”

When the occasion calls for it, Jongdae isn’t half bad in the kitchen. He whips up a couple of messy looking mushroom and pepper omelettes - extra cheese for Kyungsoo - before his guest arrives. They might not look like a culinary masterpiece, but they taste amazing and Kyungsoo is placated instantaneously when Jongdae slides the plate under his nose.

While Kyungsoo is busy demolishing his omelette, Jongdae gets the chance to whine about his marriage, about the fact his husband won’t touch him (“But you don’t want him to touch you.” “Shut up that’s not the point.”) and he’s been left alone in this sinkhole of a house (“It’s better than my place. I’ll trade you.” “Shut up and let me finish.”) and how much his life completely sucks.

"You complain a lot," Kyungsoo says through a mouthful of food. "The way I see it is Han's giving you the freedom you want. Maybe he picked up on those homicidal vibes you give off every time he's around. I wouldn't want to stay cooped up in a house with you either."

"But the entire reason for this marriage - other than to punish me for some grievous crime in a past life - is to make babies. I can't make babies with an absent husband."

"So stay up," Kyungsoo suggests with a shrug. "Talk to him about it instead of complaining to everyone else."

“The few times we manage to speak to each other, things are tense. The conversations aren’t very long.” Kyungsoo’s eyebrows wiggle up and down and Jongdae laughs, knocking his friend on the arm. “Not in that way,” he clarifies. “Well, except our wedding night, but that was coming either way.”

“Have you tried using your brain before opening your mouth?”

“Get out of my house.”

 

Jongdae, despite wanting to ignore Kyungsoo out of spite, heeds his advice. Even when sleep pulls at his eyes, he stays awake, sitting up in their bed, waiting. It’s well past midnight before Jongdae hears the footsteps coming up the stairs, moving deliberately quiet and yet they ring loud in Jongdae’s ears. Han goes about his nightly routine as Jongdae watches from the shadows over their bed.

Han doesn’t notice until he’s pulling back the sheets, eyes widening as they take in Jongdae watching him. “You should be sleeping,” Han says after a pause, slipping into bed.

“And you should be here when I come to bed,” Jongdae answers.

“What I do is _my_ business.”

“And I’m not demanding you tell me what it is you get up to when you’re away. I’m telling you that whether we like it or not, we’re legally bound and there are things expected of us. I can’t do it alone.”

“Is this a roundabout way of you asking me to fuck you?”

Jongdae resists the urge to roll his eyes, sighing. “I can’t impregnate myself and I certainly can’t impregnate _you_ when you aren’t here. So, in a roundabout way, yes, I’m telling you start thinking with your dick and shut your mouth.”

There’s something undeniably attractive in the way Han moves as he settles over Jongdae, pulling at his leg until he’s flat on the mattress. Jongdae lets out a soft gasp of surprise when Han wedges a knee between his thighs, pushing them apart without resistance. Not one to simply lay there without participating, Jongdae reaches between them, cupping Han’s dick in his hand. He squeezes, appreciating that Han is half-hard, his head drooping at the unexpected move as he grinds down.

“That’s more like it,” Jongdae compliments, releasing Han so he can hook fingers in the waistband of Han’s pants and drag them down. They get caught at the knees and Jongdae grunts, pushing Han to the side until he lands on his back with a startled noise. Han kicks his pants the rest of the way off as Jongdae shimmies out of his own, rolling to sit over Han, staring down at him in the dark.

Like this, things are almost easy.

Han gets his hands on the lube first, slipping slick fingers between Jongdae’s legs and pushing inside him with one, then two. Jongdae gets a firm grip on Han’s cock, stroking and teasing him until he’s completely hard, breathing heavily as Jongdae matches the rhythm of his fingers. Jongdae enjoys the soft noises he can pull from Han when he thumbs over the slit of his cock, smearing precome down his shaft and then back up. It’s quick, thorough and Jongdae is so ready for something aside from Han’s fingers by the time he pulls them out. He has to scoot back a little, Han holding his cock upright as Jongdae sinks down on it with a groan. It burns a little, but Jongdae doesn’t mind so much when he feels so full.

He barely gets a moment to catch his breath, Han grabbing him by the hips to guide him, help him lift upward so he can drop. If Jongdae closes his eyes, he can imagine it’s someone else underneath him, someone he wants as he fucks himself, hands on Han’s chest and hips rolling with every thrust. Jongdae focuses on the heat, the friction, the pleasure shooting up his spine with every move, every breath, every moan. His jaw goes slack, thighs spreading further as his cheeks are pulled apart by rough hands. He’s fucked harder, deeper, Han’s hips pistoning into him so fast all Jongdae can do is brace himself.

Jongdae falls forward, clenching around Han’s cock and pushing back on it eagerly, chasing the pleasure that’s brimming to the top. There are going to be bruises on the inside of his thighs from Han’s bony hips. Han’s cock is at just the right angle to have Jongdae coming without getting a chance to touch his dick, each pulse shooting white ropes until he’s spent, gritting his teeth through the sensitivity. Han brings Jongdae down hard when his orgasm hits, head tipped back and mouth open in a silent moan.

It was quick and dirty and Jongdae feels strangely unsatisfied despite getting off. He thinks about the box of toys and the various plugs inside to keep more of Han’s come in him longer, but he’s too tired to bother. After rolling to his side of the bed, he pulls the covers over himself and listens as Han steals out of the bed to wash off in the bathroom. Jongdae is asleep before he gets back.

 

Kyungsoo calls criminally early in the morning. “So. . . how did it go?”

“Swimmingly,” Jongdae groans before hanging up on his friend.

 

When Jongdae wakes up a second time, he’s pleasantly surprised to find Han still in bed, face mushed in a pillow and hair in complete disarray. Jongdae studies him, watches the way his back rises and falls as he breathes, listens to the soft snores muffled in the pillow and maps out the way the veins on Han’s hands run up his arms. For the first time, Jongdae genuinely wonders why Han dislikes him. Sure, Jongdae has his own reasons for not wanting to get married to a perfect stranger and Han had seemed pissed at the idea of Jongdae’s parents essentially buying him for Jongdae, but it can’t just be that, can it? It’s too weak of an argument to chase Han from his home from early morning to late at night without any chance to make things better.

Stretching and yawning, Jongdae hobbles his way to the shower, grimacing at the bruises on his thighs that are the perfect imprint of Han’s hips. He’s still sticky and gross and he tries to keep from leaving a trail over their floor before getting under the spray. He winces a little as he slides two fingers into himself to allow the rest of Han’s come to slide out, rubbing around the tender area after. They’re going to need to have a talk about the sex in their relationship. It’s only happened twice and yet there’s already a pattern. Jongdae doesn’t want to deal with the pain every morning after.

Han is still asleep when Jongdae is finally clean and awake, quietly pulling on clothes before leaving the room. There’s a skip in his step, a lingering smile on his mouth, and while a small part is because Han hasn’t pulled his disappearing act, most of it is due to classes resuming tomorrow. Jongdae is a creature of habit and the routine schedule of school is something he can depend on. Plus, Kyungsoo was gullible enough to sign up for most of the same classes so Jongdae has someone at his side who won’t call in as a hologram unless necessary.

The break between quarters, while normally enjoyable, has driven Jongdae to the brink of his sanity this time.

Jongdae leans against the bar as he sips his tea, flicking through his tablet to make sure there were no hidden assignments he was meant to do over the break. He’s nearly through when Han appears, his hair still a mess and his eyes half open as he sticks his head in the refrigerator. Han, Jongdae learns, only fully wakes up after he’s had a full glass of milk. He drinks it down in only a few swallows, standing there with a satisfied look on his face before rinsing his cup.

“Good morning,” Jongdae offers, finally drawing Han’s attention.

“Morning,” he rumbles, scratching through his hair and stretching.

“Sleep well?” Ah, yes, small talk. Even Jongdae finds it pathetic, but where else is he supposed to start? _Hey, you hate me. Tell me why._

“You kick in your sleep,” Han divulges. And then he’s out of the room, headed back upstairs.

Jongdae hangs his head between his arms and sighs in momentary defeat. It doesn’t mean he’s given up the fight.

Han spends the day puttering around the house, finally unpacking his things. Jongdae doesn’t hover because hovering is intrusive and annoying, but he does pick his moments. Han is filling his half of the closet with his clothes and Jongdae is leaning against the wall, watching. “What’s your favorite color?” he asks, figuring it best to begin with an innocent question.

Han ignores him, steadfastly folding his underwear into tiny balls and dropping them at his side. Who the hell _folds_ their underwear?

“Mine’s pink,” he offers, hoping it will get the conversation rolling.

Han grunts - a noise indicating that he’s both heard and is uninterested in continuing with talking.

Jongdae pushes off the wall, scowling down at where Han is gathering his neatly folded underwear in his arms to put away. “Look,” he begins, trying to keep a lid on his anger, “I get that you’re pissed about the whole stuck together for life thing, but I didn’t ask for this either and I’m trying to make it a little better. So get off your high horse and either help me make this easier or figure out how to get this entire thing undone.”

Jongdae leaves the room without an answer, knowing he won’t get one anyway.

It’s almost an hour later when Han finds Jongdae in the kitchen, whipping up something light for lunch. He stands behind Jongdae, watching as he chops the carrots. Jongdae glances over at him and Han looks up, meeting his eyes. “White,” Han says. “My favorite color is white.”

He leaves after that.

Jongdae smiles, shaking his head as he goes back to lunch. It’s a start.

 

“So,” Kyungsoo begins, watching as Jongdae squirms in the seat next to him. “How are . . . _things_ . . ?”

Jongdae crosses his legs, trying to alleviate the discomfort some. “Uncomfortable,” he whispers with a scowl, trying to appear as if he’s paying attention to the lecture.

Kyungsoo snickers. “I meant your relationship progress with Han, not your ass.”

Jongdae pierces his best friend with an unamused glare. “Uncomfortable.”

Jongdae had figured he was safe in this class - _Medical Malpractices of the 19th-22nd Centuries_ \- seeing as it is one Kyungsoo enjoys. Jongdae finds it depressing, but that’s exactly the type of thing Kyungsoo would attach himself to passionately. The class is simply a more detailed version of the summary all kids are taught in standard school. Entwined with the history of modern medicine, it focuses on the abhorrent practices used on humanity as a ladder to get to where things went terribly wrong. Too much tampering with nature’s balance, etc etc etc. Jongdae slumps in his seat, hissing as he goes.

He can’t even imagine how he would feel if he’d had sex last night; he’s still living with the aches and pains from the night before when he’d antagonized his husband into fucking him. Something has to give.

It’s hard to focus back on the lesson when the professor is a stationary hologram, clearly distracted himself because his husband is pregnant and close to his due date _and_ their two other sons sometimes pop up in the hologram to make funny faces, their giggles loud in the background.

It’s with a reverberating sigh that’s loud over the humming, that the class is let out early. Kyungsoo’s probably the only person sad about it.

“Did you two have your much needed heart-to-heart?” Kyungsoo asks as soon as they’re out of the classroom, sleek gray-washed walls all around them with only the light filtering through the doors at the end as his salvation. Sometimes it gets so suffocating in these buildings; they all look the same, smell the same, choke his individuality the same. He understands the necessity for uniformity, but not with everything and not in such high doses.

“It wasn’t a heart-to-heart,” Jongdae starts, eyes narrowing in the sunlight. He takes in a deep breath of fresh air and lets it out slowly. “But he told me his favorite color!”

Kyungsoo stops, holding Jongdae by his elbow to stare up at him in disbelief. “His favorite color? Jongdae, you can’t build a relationship - a _marriage_ \- on a favorite color.”

“No,” Jongdae admits, pulling away to continue walking. “But it’s a start.”

 

Jongdae isn’t surprised to find the house empty when he gets home even though Han’s classes for the day ended hours before his did. He _is_ disappointed though. And because he is _not_ going to sit alone in the dark and feel sorry for himself, Jongdae calls Joonmyun and announces he’s coming over for dinner, hanging up before Joonmyun can lodge a complaint. Joonmyun can stop sexing up his husband long enough to entertain Jongdae for a meal.

At least all the neighborhoods in the city are condensed and Jongdae can weave between properties to get to Joonmyun’s with just enough time for Joonmyun and Yifan to be properly clothed. (Although it’s never stopped Joonmyun before. He’s shameless about nudity; the only thing he’s more shameless about is wanting to be nude with his husband.)

The pleasant aroma of fish fills Jongdae’s nose when he steps inside, a fully clothed Yifan - complete with flushed cheeks - following him into the kitchen where Joonmyun is bent over, checking on the food in the oven. It wouldn’t be such a horrible sight if he was wearing pants. But he’s not.

Jongdae decides to bite his tongue and go along with it. After all, he’s in _Joonmyun’s_ house and it’s not as if he hasn’t seen his brother naked far too many times for it to be shocking anymore. What he _doesn’t_ need to see are the raised welts in the shape of teeth marks on Joonmyun’s thighs. _That_ sends an unpleasant shudder down his spine.

“So what’s the occasion?” Joonmyun queries as he pulls the pan from the oven. There are several fish filets sizzling, the scent of garlic wafting off them and Jongdae’s stomach rumbles.

“My husband is missing in action and I wanted company,” he quips, nearly drooling as Joonmyun adds a little lemon and a lot of melted butter to the top of the filets.

“Have you scared him away already?” Yifan teases, his hands settling on Joonmyun’s waist from behind to leave an affectionate kiss on the back of his neck.

“He won’t stick around long enough for me to properly scare him,” Jongdae huffs.

“The wedding night must have been nice then.”

Jongdae sighs, sprawling his torso over the counter until Joonmyun walks past and elbows him while balancing the pan of fish in his hands. “Get off my counter and go wash your hands if you want to eat.”

Jongdae scrambles to do as he’s told, thankful his brother isn’t kicking him out for being a brat which he _knows_ he’s being. When he gets back, there’s already a plate waiting for him with fish and rice and it smells divine.

“This is the second time you’ve come to me after Han’s gone off to do his own thing,” Joonmyun comments. “Is this a regular occurrence?”

He sounds worried and Jongdae does not want to worry his brother. Joonmyun already has enough to deal with, but he’s also one of the few people Jongdae can talk to about this. Jongdae heaves out a sigh, nodding.

Joonmyun purses his lips, eyebrows furrowed and Yifan reaches over to rub the wrinkles away fondly. “Have you two had sex since your wedding night?”

“Only once. He just doesn’t seem interested and I’m running out of ideas. Everything I do either annoys him or goes ignored.”

“Have you given thought to simply seducing him?” Yifan offers.

Jongdae pauses chewing the fish in his mouth, torn between moaning at how it positively melts on his tongue and demanding to know why _he_ has to be the one doing the seducing.

“Yifan’s right,” Joonmyun says before Jongdae can get a word in. In his periphery, Jongdae sees Yifan’s proud grin and resists the urge to roll his eyes. They’re so gross. “You found the box we left for you, yes?”

Jongdae makes a noise of disgust. “That _was_ you!”

“We thought it would come in handy in case you needed some help getting into the mood. I assume you haven’t used any of it.”

“Not if it came from you!”

“Oh Jongdae,” Joonmyun chides. “Grow up. You’re a married man who can’t get his husband to stick around long enough for sex so you can’t afford to turn away my help. I’m not telling you to break out the twelve speed vibrators and tie him to the bed, but at least _look_ and see if there’s anything that could be of use.”

Jongdae mulls over the suggestion the rest of the way through dinner, far more happier now that the topic has turned from his lack of a sex life to more mundane things like Joonmyun and Yifan’s plans for a vacation in the spring. And the more he ponders, the more he’s convinced Joonmyun is right.

Joonmyun politely tells Jongdae he needs to leave after dinner because he and Yifan have unfinished business. With a full belly and the beautiful night sky over him, Jongdae takes his time, going the long way around to his home. The lights are still all off which means Han still isn’t back and instead of being upset, Jongdae is relieved. It means he can go through that box in peace.

He left it buried under a larger unpacked box on his side of their closet and it takes some elbow grease to pull it out without the other box tipping over on him. Jongdae makes himself comfortable in the middle of their bed before opening the box to inspect the gifts inside. They’re all neatly packed in, all in their original packages and Jongdae goes for the small middle box, already familiar with the item.

It’s a stretcher. _Oh_ , it’s not just any stretcher though; Jongdae’s never seen one that can warm up and vibrate too. The package says it’s to ensure the comfort of your partner, the warm vibrations helping them to relax and it sounds . . . tempting. Perhaps it will come in use after all. If Jongdae is going to have to goad Han into sex every time, he can at least prepare himself in advance so he’s not so sore the next few days.

He puts the stretcher aside with a smile. He’ll have to thank Joonmyun later.

The other toys are far more dubious and Jongdae eyes the bulbous tip on the dildo in his hands warily, dropping it with a small yelp when he presses the button on the end and the tip pops out further, kind of like an umbrella. That is _not_ something he visualizes _ever_ putting up his ass. Han’s maybe . . . 

The sound of their door opening downstairs has Jongdae scrambling to put everything away, face burning by the time Han walks into their room, pausing to look at where Jongdae is halfway inside the closet. “Am I interrupting something?” he asks, almost amused.

Jongdae stands up straight, a hand on his hip. “No.” He looks Han over. “Have you had dinner?”

“Yes, I ate with a friend.”

“Oh, anyone I’ve met?” Jongdae is trying and it’s painfully obvious. And painfully awkward.

“No.” Han walks toward the bathroom, leaving Jongdae grasping at some way to keep him talking. “I’m tired. I’ll be going to bed first. Good night.”

Han disappears into the bathroom and Jongdae slumps, sighing. “Good night,” he mumbles to no one.

 

Jongdae isn’t deterred.

He wakes up before Han, leaving a note behind on the refrigerator that Han needs to be home by dinner. And considering Han only has two classes, one before noon and one just after, it shouldn’t be a problem. Jongdae only has the one class in the morning and Kyungsoo spends the entirety of it trying to coax Jongdae into confessing what he’s so excited about.

“I’m going to seduce my husband,” Jongdae finally reveals.

Kyungsoo gives him a solid, supportive slap on the back. “Good luck.” The laughter that follows _isn’t_ so supportive. But he doesn’t let Kyungsoo get him down.

Dinner is simple. Jongdae opts for a chicken salad, unable to resist stealing a few cherry tomatoes to scarf down as he waits for the chicken to bake. He’s feeling a little hot under the collar, pulling at his shirt uselessly, but it’s not because of the oven. An hour before Han was due to be home - roughly - Jongdae had made use of the stretcher. He could hardly feel it then, the settings adjusted specifically for him.

Now, however, it’s noticeable. His toes curl in his shoes with each millimeter it stretches him wider, each increment followed by a warming sensation and the vibrations switching on to relax him. It’s not relaxing. It’s actually making it worse. By the time dinner is finished, the chicken nearly torn to chunks and thrown in with the vegetables instead of being cut with a knife, Jongdae has to tuck his cock underneath the elastic of his underwear to keep it from scraping painfully on the fabric every time he moves.

Han gets home just in time (for Jongdae not to go crazy). “I hope this isn’t because _both_ our parents are going to be here,” he grumbles, stopping at the entryway to the dining room when he sees the two plates sitting at the table. For a moment, Han looks confused. “It’s just us?”

Jongdae’s face falls and he bites back the angry words that want to slip off his tongue. “Yes,” he answers with as much politeness as he can muster. “Is that a problem?”

“I had plans for tonight,” he replies. “I thought this was important. Don’t leaves messages if it isn’t because our parents are going to be here. I have to go.”

Jongdae rushes toward Han, seething and ready to snap; he manages to hold himself back, but only just. “I cooked,” he spits and Han stops and turns to where Jongdae is gripping tightly enough to the door frame to turn his knuckles white. “And you are going to _sit_ and _eat_ it with me,” he commands, eyes narrowed in a silent threat. “And you’re going to love it,” he adds through gritted teeth.

Han visibly swallows before nodding, making his way back to the dining room. He edges around Jongdae cautiously, never taking his eyes off him and Jongdae feels momentarily satisfied. There is _no way_ he’s letting his efforts go to waste. Han mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like, “house spouse from my worst nightmares,” as he sweeps around to sit at the table and Jongdae lets it slide in lieu of saving the atmosphere.

“This is good,” Han compliments after the first bite. And Jongdae doesn’t know if he says it because it’s true or because he’s trying to placate him, but he accepts it with a smile.

“Thank you. I don’t know many dishes, but it’s hard to go wrong with chicken.”

It’s a quiet meal; Han is busy trying to eat quickly but not look like it, and Jongdae is slowly losing his mind because the stretcher has reached its maximum width and he’s horny beyond belief. He’s also disappointed the entire seduction mood is ruined because Han just had to go and be a jerk.

Han is watching Jongdae curiously, his mostly empty plate slid to the side as Jongdae drinks down the rest of his water. “Why do you do this?” Han finally asks, elbows on the table as he leans forward. “You’ve made it clear you don’t want to be married to me and I feel the same, so why are you trying so hard?”

“Because neither side of our family is going to let up and let us live our lives until one of us is pregnant,” Jongdae answers. “Like it or not, we’re stuck like this and I’d rather get it done now.”

“Is that what this is about?” Han gestures to the dishes on the table.

“It would also be nice if we could find a way to be civil to each other. I’m not asking to be friends, but I’m tired of this lack of communication and the anger we keep throwing at each other. It’s exhausting being married to you.”

“You don’t make it easy,” Han snaps, leaning back with his arms crossed over his chest.

Jongdae stands abruptly, Han’s eyes widening as he walks around the table and pulls Han’s chair out. Jongdae leans over him, gratified that Han looks a little nervous. “Then I’ll _make_ it easy.” He sits himself on Han’s lap, teeth scraping over his lower lip and head tilted as he rests his arms around Han’s shoulders.

“What are you doing?” Han whispers even as his hands settle on Jongdae’s waist.

Jongdae rocks forward, letting Han feel the length of his cock pressed against his belly, tipping his head down until their cheeks brush. “I’m making it easy. All you have to do is fuck me, bury your cock so deep inside me that I get pregnant.”

Han cups Jongdae’s dick through his pants and laughs. “Does arguing with me _really_ turn you on?” he asks incredulously.

“No,” Jongdae moans, grinding against the pressure of Han’s hand. “Your voice is actually a huge turn off, so stop talking before I go soft.”

Han growls at him, but doesn’t stop Jongdae from undoing his pants, slipping his hand inside to palm his cock. Han’s head falls back, mouth open and eyes shut.

Jongdae slides off Han’s lap and onto his knees, tugging at Han’s pants and underwear so he can get to his dick. It’s the first time he’s seen it in the light and it’s not impressive soft. But Jongdae needs him hard, so he leans in, sucking the tip into his mouth. Han thrusts up and Jongdae lets his teeth catch around the crown in warning. With one hand occupied with Han’s dick, Jongdae uses his other to shimmy his own pants down his hips, moaning at the relief he gets when his cock is freed.

He doesn’t touch the stretcher, choosing to jerk himself off as he blows Han, waiting for him to get hard enough. And Han is definitely a grower. He soon fills Jongdae’s mouth and he slurps around the head before taking him down further, impatience finally pulling him away because he can’t wait anymore.

Han’s eyes are dark, unfocused when he stares at where Jongdae is kicking away his pants, leaning back on the table to pull at the stretcher. It comes out slowly and Han watches, bottom lip in his teeth. He utters a low, “fuck,” when it pops out and Jongdae’s hole clenches around nothing. It feels odd not having something inside him.

There’s a packet of lube - courtesy of The Box - that Jongdae plucks from his discarded pants, tearing it open to pour onto his hand. Han pulls him forward, fingers digging into Jongdae’s thighs as Jongdae sits on his lap. With his slick hand, Jongdae covers the length of Han’s cock, squeezing around him teasingly before wiping the rest on his own shirt. Han holds his cock up for Jongdae, helping to steady him as he finally sinks down on it. Jongdae hisses in pleasure, breath stolen as Han fills him, pulsing inside him as he finally bottoms out.

The stretcher makes the initial intrusion ache less and Jongdae doesn’t need as long to get used to it, bracing his hands just above Han’s knees to lift and drop. Han lets out a low groan, palms hot when they run up to Jongdae’s waist, holding him tight enough to help. It takes a few ups and downs before Han thrusts into Jongdae, nearly rocking the chair back. Jongdae’s pleasured noise catches in his throat and he puts his weight more on his arms, fucking himself on Han’s cock fast to alleviate the pressure in his balls.

Han brings Jongdae forward, Jongdae muffling his moans in Han’s neck when Han spreads his cheeks to bury his cock deeper. The new angle has Jongdae standing on the balls of his feet, bouncing as hard and fast as his body will let him as he’s filled and emptied, clenching around Han’s cock greedily. The chair rocks back onto two legs every time Han thrusts up, banging back to the floor when Jongdae sits all the way down.

The coiling heat in Jongdae’s gut is nearing its peak and he bites down on the cotton fabric of Han’s shirt, whining when he gets his fingers around his dick. He pumps himself roughly, his body locking and a cramp shooting up from the bottom of his left foot when he comes. Ropes of white spill onto Han’s shirt and over Jongdae’s knuckles, his overheated body contracting around Han’s cock as he’s fucked until there’s nothing left in him.

Jongdae is a ragdoll, pliant and willing as Han speeds, his own noises raising in volume to fill the room. Jongdae rocks his hips, tightening around Han’s cock until Han is coming inside him with a loud groan. He shoves Jongdae down on his cock hard, grinding up into him as he pulses and shakes, sweat beading across his brow.

Jongdae flops back enough to breathe without inhaling Han’s scent, dizzy and panting to catch his breath.

“You have to admit,” Jongdae laughs. “At least we’re good at this.”

Han chuckles, groaning when his dick flexes inside Jongdae. “Just try not to break my dick.”

“I need it,” Jongdae replies, slowly lifting himself up. He picks up the stretcher discarded on the table and quickly slides it inside himself as Han’s eyes grow wide. “I need your come too if we’re ever going to have a kid.”

Jongdae gingerly walks out of the dining room, pausing at the door. “Mind cleaning up? I’m tired.”


	3. Three

Jongdae lazes in bed the next morning, unable to help feeling a little better about things. The whole seduction plan hadn't gone as smoothly as he'd hoped, but Han seems to get the message now and it shouldn't be long before Jongdae becomes an incubator for a new life. There's even breakfast left in the warmer for Jongdae, courtesy of Han, that he digs into after finally rolling off their way too comfortable mattress to get ready for the day.

Kyungsoo shows up early, puttering around the kitchen for food as Jongdae finishes getting ready. "I'd ask how it went," Kyungsoo says around a mouthful of banana, "but you're smiling and you never smile anymore."

Jongdae tries to glare at his friend and fails, a grin slipping through anyway. "It wasn't a complete success, but I think I've finally gotten through to him."

Kyungsoo looks impressed. "I doubt it had anything to do with your mouth," he announces brazenly. "And everything to do with your ass."

Jongdae rolls his eyes and grabs his terminal off the counter. "Let's go before you eat all my food."

And it really must be Jongdae's lucky day because his Professor's husband goes into active labor only twenty minutes into the lecture. He stutters over his apologies while uploading a reading assignment to everyone's terminals before his hologram goes out and the class is left in silence. Jongdae is saved from the torment of listening to the depressing evolution of the lobotomy.

"This is actually perfect," Kyungsoo grins and Jongdae follows him out of the classroom in confusion.

"Why?" he asks cautiously.

Kyungsoo is typing out a message on his terminal and sending it off before Jongdae can catch the name of the recipient. "I have a date later, but now it can be sooner. You don't mind walking home by yourself, do you? I'm going to go meet him at his place in the opposite direction."

Jongdae sighs the sigh of a man abandoned and Kyungsoo thanks him before he can answer, rushing off with a spring in his step. It must be nice to be that excited over meeting someone. He’d consider acting betrayed the next time he sees Kyungsoo, but it’s great to see him so happy and expectant.

A spark of hope ignites in Jongdae’s chest, one that has him hurrying home to see what he can get started on for dinner. If last night’s went well, maybe he can make it a habit and they can progress. It’s not much to work with, but Jongdae is willing to take what he can get.

He’s humming to himself as he steps inside his home, shoes off at the door and terminal set on the charging plate by the kitchen window. He’s about to begin his quest to make the perfect dinner - within his limited abilities - when he hears a soft noise from upstairs. A quick glance at the schedule displayed in blue on the refrigerator door tells him Han only had his one ridiculously early class this morning. Which means he’s probably napping in bed like a lump on a log.

Jongdae steals up to their room to check on him, something clenching anxiously in his stomach as he hears movement and several more hushed noises. His heart feels as if it’s going to beat through his throat where it’s lodged itself when Jongdae carefully, quietly opens the door to his bedroom.

Everything inside him shatters.

On his bed - _their_ bed - is Han, but he’s not alone. There are a long pair of legs wrapped around Han’s waist, arms pinned to the mattress as Han fucks into him slow, sensual. The man moans Han’s name, the syllables stolen as Han leans down to kiss him tenderly. The scene is everything Jongdae wanted for himself and his stomach churns, his fingers curling into fists at his sides.

A crashing wave of sadness leaves him teary-eyed, but it’s the rage that follows that guides his actions. Jongdae makes his presence known by walking the rest of the way into the room and slamming the door closed. The two men on the bed freeze, eyes glued to where Jongdae is standing, shoulders drawn up and jaw clenched as his nails dig into his palms.

It’s not Han who moves, but rather the man under him, pushing Han away to stand. The way Han reaches out for him, eyes apologetic and fingers so light as they caress over his back has Jongdae ready to crumple, find a dark corner to hide in away from the world. He knows there was never any affection between them, but to have his husband bring home another man to be with in _their_ bed is too much.

Jongdae had asked for too much, reached too far in hoping.

He can’t take the way Han is fussing over this man and Jongdae snarls when he speaks. “Get _out_ of my house.”

The man flinches, moving to obey, but Han takes hold of his arm, fingers curled around him to keep him in place before Han turns to Jongdae with anger darkening his delicate features. “You can’t order out _my_ guest,” he spits, as if he has a reason to be pissed. “This is my house too and _I_ say when he leaves.”

Jongdae burns with the desire to leave bruises over his pale skin, get that deceptively pretty face to reflect the ugly person within, and paint blood on his pretty pink lips, watch him drop to his knees, as broken as Jongdae feels. But he doesn’t. If he were to lay one hand on Han, he doesn’t think he could stop. Not after this. There’d be no stopping until everything Han has put him through has been carved into his skin for everyone to see. Shaking with restraint and jaw aching from clenching his teeth, Jongdae keeps himself still. “No,” he forces out through his teeth, eyes narrowing dangerously at the pair. “Both of you. I was talking to both of you. Get the _fuck_ out of _my_ house.”

“You can’t force me off my property,” Han hisses out sharply, his shoulders squaring and chin rising defiantly.

“I CAN!” Jongdae yells, taking a step forward until all that separates them is the bed. It reeks heavily of sex, smells like _them_ and Jongdae’s throat closes with the urge to throw up. “And I will,” he grates out. “You lost your _property_ when you broke our marriage contract by sticking your dick up _his_ ass. So take your whore and get out!”

_The Whore_ jerks his head toward Jongdae, eyes wide with stunned offense before he’s twisting his arm out of Han’s grip. “Come on,” he whispers, trying to get Han to move. Han doesn’t budge, his narrowed eyes on Jongdae as his jaw tenses. It’s almost better, the way Jongdae can see his anger. He is used to - he _knows_ \- Han’s anger, and he’s not afraid of it.

“No,” Han states firmly. “We’re not going anywhere. And you can take your fucking self righteous bullshit and shove it up your own ass, right along with what you just said about Sehun. You have _no right_ to speak to him that way.”

“I have every right!” Jongdae yells back, barely reining himself in. He’s livid. He’s never been this angry in his entire life. It feels good, liberating. “I have the right to call the man fucking my husband in _my_ bed any fucking thing I want!”

“Take it back,” Han snaps, his cheeks filling with red. “He has nothing to do with this.”

“You’re right. This is all about you - it’s _always_ about _YOU_ you fucking selfish bastard. It doesn’t matter how _I_ feel because Lu fucking Han has his feelings hurt.” Pain rattles in his chest, twisting around his ribs and taking root in his heart. He trembles with it, embraces it. “I don’t fucking _care_ anymore. Just keep screwing him instead, go breed until your fucking heart’s content. Just leave me the fuck out of it.”

“Lu Han,” Sehun says forcefully, a hand on Han’s shoulder to try and pull him back, but it’s useless.

“HOW DARE YOU!” Han spits violently, shoving Sehun away. “Just because you had your pretty little life ripped apart - didn’t get your nice little happy ending, a perfect fucking marriage with a pathetic, docile husband - you’re pissed. It’s not my fucking fault your daddies had to buy someone to put up with you because no one else wanted you. It’s not _my_ fault that you’re a fuck up.”

“ _I’m_ a fuck up?” Jongdae asks incredulously. “Why don’t you go take a long hard look at yourself in the mirror, pretty boy. I’m not the one throwing away a marriage.”

“I don’t give a _fuck_ about this marriage or how much you want to be a good little boy, rolling over and letting me fuck you just because they told you to.” A disgusted sneer spreads over Han’s face. “You’d throw this marriage away too if you had the chance so get off your fucking high horse just because I have someone and you don’t.”

“Fuck you,” Jongdae hisses. “Get the fuck out. Bought or not, I’m not dealing with this shit anymore. You’re not worth this so just get the _fuck_ out _right now_! You can let your whore escort you out with the rest of the trash.”

For a second, Jongdae thinks Han is going to lunge for him, but after a momentary twitch, Han takes a step back. “Fine,” Han spits, bending to grab his pants, throwing the other pair at Sehun. “Fucking live in your misery alone. I don’t fucking give a shit. Ruin someone else’s life. I’m done.” Han grabs Sehun by the wrist, pulling him along as Sehun tries to gather their shirts from the floor. The two rush past a shaking Jongdae who watches as the pair leaves just as he demanded.

Jongdae stands there, riveted in place as a sinkhole opens in his chest. He spins on his heel suddenly, speeding after, taking the steps two at a time. He skids around the corner just in time to see Han walking out of the house. “AND DON’T COME BACK!” Jongdae yells.

The door closes behind him with a _whoosh_ and a soft click of the lock.

He actually left.

Jongdae’s fist meets the wall, the force radiating down his arm and into his shoulder as one of the framed pictures falls and shatters. This can’t be it.

Jongdae stumbles up the stairs, reaching out to grab everything that belongs to Han, tossing it toward the bed in a pile. All his clothes in the closet, his fucking _folded_ underwear, his terminal and toothpaste, his aftershave and body wash. Every last piece of Han that’s spread through this private, personal area is stacked on a soiled mattress and Jongdae stares at it, eyes burning with unshed tears. He wants it all gone.

Jongdae sinks to the floor, the tears finally falling in hot trails down his cheeks. He’s done everything he knows how to do to bring some sort of stability to this sham of a marriage and it’s all been thrown in his face. Has Han been with that man - Sehun - every time he stayed out late? Is Sehun the reason Han keeps him shut out?

How many times has Han brought him into their home, into their bed to fuck? And of all the times Jongdae and Han have been together, how many were after Han had been with Sehun? What makes Sehun any better than Jongdae - the man Han is _married_ to?

How stupid has he looked trying to force two puzzle pieces who don’t fit together?

Jongdae has to pick himself up off the floor and rush to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before he’s sick.

He’s done. Jongdae is finished. He gave it his best and he’s hanging it up, his parents be damned.

The bathroom floor is cool against his heated skin and Jongdae lays on it, tears pooling on the tile and every beat of his heart widening the crack that began at the center the day he lost his freedom. Is this what their society has come to? How many people have lost their identity, their self worth by being pushed together all in an effort to breed? It’s not worth it. Jongdae is fortunate his parents care for each other, but what of all the children who grew up with their parents disliking each other?

Jongdae could have had happiness, but he was denied without a second thought. If his parents had been true to their word, had allowed Jongdae to marry Chanyeol, he would never have been in this position. This marriage they arranged has left Jongdae vulnerable and weak, scarred. Furious. 

Their society is sick, their methods cruel.

Jongdae wants no part of it.

The light that had been filtering in through the curtains is gone when Jongdae picks himself up, eyes swollen and stinging, but the tears have stopped. He feels weak, shaky and he descends the stairs slowly, listening to ensure no one else is there. His stomach gurgles, and he rubs it with one hand as he searches for the right tea.

_Ginger_.

Jongdae remembers things he’d vowed to keep hidden away and that ache in his chest is back, weighing him down until he has to sit, listing on the countertop until the water boils. His hands are trembling when he tries to pour it into his cup and he spills most of it, slamming the kettle down on the stove out of frustration. He feels so useless, worthless.

As he sits in the dark, sinking into the couch, he lets the silence surround him like an old friend. The tea keeps his fingers warm and after the first few swallows, his trembling has eased up enough to keep the tea from threatening to slosh over the lip.

His mind wanders to Kyungsoo, nearly ready to call him until he remembers that Kyungsoo is on a date. And Kyungsoo deserves that date, so Jongdae keeps to himself, curling inward and staring into the darkness as if it will hold all the answers. It eats at him that he’s not good enough for Han, that he wasn’t even worth _trying_. If Han had taken the time to work on their relationship, attempt to make it worthwhile, then the sting wouldn’t be so bold, so pronounced.

Jongdae finishes his tea and lays down on his couch, knees pulled to his chest. By the time he falls asleep, everything feels empty.

 

Jongdae ignores his morning alarm, choosing to burrow himself further into his couch, blanket wrapped tight around him and tucked carefully under his feet to keep them toasty.

Blanket?

Jongdae freezes, hoping to go unnoticed by whoever is in his house. There’s tinkling in the kitchen and he dares poke his head up, eyes following the back of a head until he realizes who it is and relaxes.

“I don’t remember giving you access to my house,” Jongdae says, his throat raspy. His eyes sting and they’re still swollen, but not as badly as before.

Joonmyun turns, sparing a judging glance at Jongdae from over the bar. “Did you forget I married a computer genius?”

Jongdae bites his tongue, foregoing his usual witty reply and pulling the blanket over his head instead, hoping to go back to sleep. Reality is not what he wants right now. What he wants is a nice, warm, _safe_ place to go where men like Han are strung up by their toes so men like Jongdae can dangle them over fire pits. Instead he gets to listen to Joonmyun messing around in his stuff - probably cooking - and keeping him awake.

“Not to be rude,” he finally snaps, dragging the blanket off his head, “but _why_ are you here?”

Joonmyun comes out of the kitchen with a plate, steam wafting off the top and Jongdae’s mouth waters at the smell. “To take care of you,” he answers, as if it was obvious.

“I don’t want to be taken care of,” Jongdae whines even as he sits up, holding the blanket around his middle and leaning forward to take a long sniff of the food now sitting in front of him on the coffee table. “I want to be left alone for the rest of my painfully miserable existence.”

“Always with the dramatics,” Joonmyun sighs, holding a mug to his mouth before taking a sip.

Jongdae glares at him. “Is that what I’m being?” Jongdae says, anger bubbling up from his stomach. “ _Dramatic_?”

“You kicked your husband out of your house,” Joonmyun answers with that stupid I-know-what-you-did look that always pisses Jongdae off. One day he’s going to shave off one of Joonmyun’s eyebrows just so it doesn’t look so judgemental.

“Yes I did,” Jongdae calmly affirms, willing his hand to stop trembling and failing. “And no, I will not be inviting him back.”

“He doesn’t need an invitation,” Joonmyun reminds him. “His name is on the house too.”

“I’ll have that taken care of promptly.”

It’s not often Joonmyun loses his cool and Jongdae knows he has a special button all his own that he can press to have Joonmyun’s face go red and his lips thin into a line. “This isn’t a game, Jongdae.” His tone is harsh, cold. “You don’t get to decide your marriage is over, especially so soon after _getting_ married. Whatever problems you two have, you need to act like adults and _fix_ them.”

“Don’t you _dare_ lecture me, Joonmyun,” Jongdae yells, his chest squeezing with all the rage he’s kept pent up inside. “Some things can’t be fixed.” The image of Han in bed with Sehun flickers through Jongdae’s mind, sears itself to his eyelids so every time he blinks, he’s reminded of it. It’s maddening, infuriating.

“They can if you’re willing.”

Jongdae shakes his head, hating how his eyes are stinging with tears again. Joonmyun looks momentarily taken aback; Jongdae never cries and here he is, crying for the second time in less than a day. “Not after what he did.”

Jongdae presses the heels of his palms to his eyes, head down in shame and he hears the clink of Joonmyun’s cup when he sets it down, feels the weight of his brother when he sits beside him, an arm around him. “Jongdae, what did he do?”

Jongdae sobs out a laugh. Of course Han would leave out the _why_ when he went crawling to his parents. The fucking coward. Jongdae would rip into him right now if he could, try to steal back what Han’s taken from him.

“He was with someone else,” Jongdae explains as another sob builds in his chest. He’s crying now and he can’t stop the tears. “How would you feel if you came home to find Yifan fucking someone else in your bed?” Jongdae looks over at his brother with watery eyes and even still he can see the way Joonmyun’s gone pale and dangerously still.

“I’ll talk to our parents,” Joonmyun assures him.

Jongdae nestles comfortably into his brother’s arms and lets his breakfast go cold.

 

The thing about Joonmyun is that he’s dependably calm, that voice of reason in the darkness.

But Jongdae has always preferred the comfort of Kyungsoo in times of crisis. No one else can appreciate and reflect Jongdae’s emotions like Kyungsoo does.

“That moldy, decomposing sack of _cocks_!” Kyungsoo shouted as soon as Jongdae told him. “If I had been there, I’d have shoved a plug the size of my fist up his ass before making him leave.”

Jongdae certainly has to appreciate the imagery even while shuddering at the idea, crossing his legs uncomfortably.

“I’m sorry your marriage is a trainwreck,” Kyungsoo sighs, plopping himself half on top of Jongdae, petting his thigh affectionately. “You think your parents will do anything about it?”

“Joonmyun’s going to talk to them, so . . . “

Kyungsoo stands - again - abruptly and tugs on Jongdae to follow. “Come on. There’s no use sitting here being so glum.” A confused Jongdae allows Kyungsoo to lead him up the stairs and to his bedroom before questioning what they’re doing. “I’ve always wanted to burn a mattress,” Kyungsoo muses, raking his eyes over the pile of Han’s belongings still stacked high. “And I doubt you’re ever going to want to sleep on that one again.”

Jongdae laughs, pulling Kyungsoo in for a hug. “I love you the most.”

 

(Turns out burning mattresses - even on private property - is something the city police don’t encourage and an emergency crew puts out the blaze as Kyungsoo pouts by the sidelines.

“Fine,” he says, grabbing Jongdae’s wrist. “We’ll find something else to destroy. Han left _all_ his stuff here, right?”

Jongdae really, _really_ loves Kyungsoo.)

 

One day and two nights of crying and venting his anger and crying some more - mostly over his declining self worth - is still not enough time for him to be prepared to see Han walk into their living room. Jongdae had tried to get his privileges to the house revoked, but seeing as Han had been granted owner status, he couldn’t without Han’s consent. If he wasn’t flanked by _both_ sets of parents, Jongdae would have kicked him out immediately, perhaps thrown a few things at him just to get his point across. For his part, Han looks guilty and he won’t meet Jongdae’s eyes which is fine with Jongdae.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Jongdae quips, sarcasm dripping thick from every word. His father looks pinched, like someone stirred salt in his morning tea and his dad placates him with a hand on his arm. Han’s parents simply look abashed.

“We’re going to talk this out like civilized people,” Jongdae’s father answers.

Jongdae itches to announce that particular conversation wouldn’t include Han because he’s _clearly_ not civilized, but he holds his tongue. He’s angry, seething, full of too many emotions to name and lashing out right now while he’s still raw could end up poorly for both sides. He may want out of this, but he’s also the son of a politician and he knows when to temper his rage.

It’s more awkward than their first dinner meeting, Han and his family on one couch and Jongdae and his family on the one across from it, separated by the coffee table. No one seems to want to go first and Jongdae is content to glare at Han, hoping the strength of his fury will be enough to burn the unwanted invader to ashes where he sits.

It’s Jongdae’s father who finally chooses to speak, of course, given his propensity to blow hot air to a room of high society backers to reinforce his seat on the government council. This situation shouldn’t be any different. “Jongdae, Han,” he begins and Jongdae looks over after making sure Han has seen his scathing stare. “We are all aware this marriage was brought on suddenly and neither of you were given enough time to acquaint yourselves before you were required to live together. And that can be hard on a relationship. All of us,” he continues, gesturing to himself, Jongdae’s dad and Han’s parents in turn, “have high hopes for this union. It came about because it’s what we believe is best for the both of you.”

Jongdae sucks in a sharp hiss of air through his teeth, shoulders tensing and it’s only his dad’s hand resting on his thigh, adding just a little pressure in warning, that keeps Jongdae from losing his composure. His father is talking about this marriage like it’s the greatest thing, like Jongdae and Han both professed to desiring such a thing and beseeched for it on hands and knees. A solitary glance tells Jongdae that Han’s thoughts aren’t too far from his own.

“Neither of us are happy,” Han speaks up, shrinking back a little and Jongdae knows it’s because his father has that You Dare Have A Different Opinion Than I face on. Jongdae doesn’t even have to look to know. “This was political, a rise in social standing so don’t pretend it was for either of our benefit. I don’t want to be married to Jongdae and he does not want to be married to me. The fact that all of you pushed it through despite knowing this tells me that no, you do _not_ care for _what’s best for us_.”

Jongdae has to give it to Han, unerring and directly on target in the face of imminent danger. Too bad arguments of that nature bounce around inside his father’s head only long enough to come up with a response before they’re disposed of.

“And what about society? What about the human race? Is that enough of an incentive? We’re a dying species and all we ask is you give of yourself enough to keep us above water. Your genes, your _mother’s_ genes are precious and must be passed on. With my family’s standing and money, any children you have that pass on those genes for a fertile female will have a good life, a _healthy_ chance at growing and producing _more_ healthy, fertile females. You can’t be so selfish when our existence is hanging by a thread.”

“Way to lay it on thick,” Jongdae mumbles to himself with an exasperated sigh. It’s painfully obvious that Joonmyun speaking to their parents on Jongdae’s behalf was of no use. And if Joonmyun couldn’t convince them to let this go, Jongdae doesn’t stand a chance either. “What do we have to do to get you to leave us alone?” Jongdae asks. “You say we’re together to provide a certain lifestyle for our potential children, but what kind of children would we raise if all they ever know is how much their parents don’t want to be together?”

“One child,” Han’s mother answers. She’s looking at Han, desperation in her eyes. “Give us one child from this union and we will leave you both to do as you will. At least that way we know the line will continue.”

“You don’t have to be in love or even like each other to have a child,” Jongdae’s dad adds.

“For this to happen,” Jongdae’s father begins, his eyes sweeping from Jongdae to rest heavy on Han, “there will be rules. The first of which is fidelity.”

Han fidgets and Jongdae feels a measure of vindication even if it’s nowhere near enough to wipe away the stain left behind.

“Second is cooperation between the two of you and respect for each other. I’ve heard enough bad mouthing for a couple who profess not to know one another. I also understand the two of you would prefer less intervention from outside parties. This is acceptable as long as you both follow the rules. When a healthy child is conceived and born, then we can bring the matter of your unwanted marriage to the table again. Until such time, you will remain together. Peacefully.”

There’s bile rising in the back of Jongdae’s throat and he stares across the table at Han who seems to have lost all the fight in him. He gives Jongdae a subtle, curt nod and Jongdae’s stomach goes topsy-turvy. All eyes turn toward Jongdae.

If he says no, if he lets his emotions get the better of him, then he’ll be the bad guy and he’ll _still_ be married to Han. They’ve backed him into a corner and they know it. It’s what his father is good at. He imagines the four of them sitting around, discussing the future they have planned out and patting themselves on the back for ensuring nothing stops it. It makes him physically ill, but there’s nothing he can do other than agree.

“Alright,” he finally sighs. “We’ll do it your way. Again.”

Everyone in the room instantly cheers up save for Han and Jongdae who maintain eye contact from their positions on the couches, only looking away when their parents force them to stand and eat something to celebrate.

 

“What happened to the mattress?” Han asks, standing in their bedroom with confusion on his face as he stares at the empty bedframe. (Jongdae had eventually put most of Han’s things back, tired of seeing the pile on the floor whenever he walked in.) It’s the first thing he’s said to Jongdae since their parents left nearly an hour ago. They’d worked in silence to clean up after their meal, the atmosphere so thick Jongdae could lose himself in it and never re-emerge.

Jongdae walks around Han and toward their closet. “I burned it.”

“You _what_?”

“Well if you want to get technical, Kyungsoo burned it. I just helped haul it outside and watched.”

“Why would you -” Han cuts off, nodding in understanding as if he hadn’t actually realized soiling their bed by fucking another man in it wouldn’t be grounds to get rid of the mattress anyway.

“I didn’t get a chance to have a new one delivered, so you can pick a couch or the floor.”

Han mutters to himself, still skirting cautiously around Jongdae to get to his clothes. As much as Jongdae wanted to burn those too, he supposes it’s a good thing he didn’t. It would make things far more awkward than they are now.

“Han, can I ask -? The guy -” Jongdae is hesitant, knowing even bringing up the topic could enflame another argument, but this is something Jongdae needs out in the open.

“Sehun,” Han corrects firmly, but without bite.

“Sehun. . . is he - are you two -?”

“Are we in a relationship? In love? No.”

Something sinks in Jongdae’s chest, his ribs caving in a little more. ”So he was just the better option.”

“Sehun is my friend, my _best_ friend. He was just helping me get out everything I was feeling about this forced marriage the best way he knew how.”

Somehow, that doesn’t make Jongdae feel any better. “The next time you need to _get out everything_ in a way that involves a dick going up someone’s ass, make sure it’s mine. Then maybe we can get out of this mess.”

There’s an actual smile on Han’s face when he nods, holding out his hand. Jongdae reaches out and takes it. “Deal.”

 

Jongdae’s back is killing him. The couch may be soft, but it’s not ideal for sleeping on several nights in a row and his arm is twisted at an awkward angle to massage the worst part of it as he goes and opens the message from his dad about getting a new mattress. He refuses to go another night tossing and turning and waking up miserable. Han groans when he walks in the kitchen, rotating his shoulder and looking like his night wasn’t much better. Jongdae doesn’t feel guilty about it in the least.

There are new terms in play for their marriage, more agreeable than the original. They don’t have to pop out babies, to play the happy couple until they wither and die. All they need is one child. Jongdae thinks he can handle that.

It still doesn’t make the impregnating part any easier. Han tiptoes around him like he’s about to strike, which is probably a learned behavior, and Jongdae is too amused by it to tell Han he won’t be seeking his revenge. They’ve both suffered enough and Jongdae would like to move on, put it all behind him and get on with his life.

“There’s a box upstairs you should take a look in,” he suggests after breakfast, drawing Han’s curiosity. “It’s the only one not unpacked in the closet. It was a wedding gift and I think we should start using it.”

Jongdae leaves, a satisfied smirk blossoming on his lips when he hears Han going up the stairs. He would stay to see the look on Han’s face when he opens Joonmyun and Yifan’s present to them, but he doesn’t want to keep Kyungsoo waiting. And with any luck, the new mattress will have arrived by the time he gets home; he’s going to languish on it the entire night.

 

When Jongdae returns home, he’s pleased to see a new mattress, complete with a _not gray_ comforter, something he’d been firm about. The periwinkle blue is still light enough to match everything else in the room, even if Jongdae doesn’t care about matching. He crawls on top of the bed, sighing as he falls on his face with a smile. His back loves this mattress.

Jongdae doesn’t mean to fall asleep, but it’s inevitable and he wakes only when he feels another weight shake the bed, groaning and yawning as he rubs his face in the comforter. A pair of hands grip his hips, lifting them off the bed and Jongdae gasps, letting out a soft appreciative noise when they run hot over his ass and to his thighs.

“Han?” Jongdae questions, blinking the sleep out of his eyes as he looks over his shoulder to find his husband staring down at his ass, bottom lip in his teeth. “What are you -?” Jongdae’s voice cuts off, air caught in his throat as Han rocks forward and Jongdae feels his cock through both their pants.

This is the first time Han’s initiated sex between them and Jongdae lets him without complaint, the heat rushing up his spine when Han’s body falls over him, forehead pressed to the back of Jongdae’s neck as he grinds against his ass. Jongdae pushes back, rocking with him, Han’s hands running hot under Jongdae’s shirt to drag it up. The fabric bunches at Jongdae’s armpits and he stifles a low moan when Han pinches both his nipples at once, the pleasure beginning to buzz underneath Jongdae’s skin.

Jongdae has no illusions that he’s ever going to be the one fucking into Han and he doesn’t try to fight it when Han pulls Jongdae’s pants and underwear down to his thighs, swiping slick fingers up his crack before teasing around his rim. An attempt to spread his legs further is thwarted by his pants. Jongdae bends his spine down, his ass raising higher and he hears Han’s breathing hitch. The tip of Han’s finger teases into Jongdae’s hole, pulling on his rim before pushing back in and it’s so different than Jongdae is used to. It’s always been clinical, never really about the pleasure, but Han is making an effort and Jongdae could get used to it.

His cock hangs heavy between his legs, fingers balled in the comforter as Han opens him up. Han’s fingers are long, crooking inside Jongdae until he’s shuddering, trying to spread his trapped legs and whining when he can’t. “Han,” he breathes, pushing back on the two fingers buried inside him, wanting - _needing_ \- more.

There’s rustling behind him, the sound of a wet hand moving over flesh and Jongdae wiggles his hips, letting Han know he’s ready and willing. The loss of Han’s fingers is soon alleviated when the tip of his dick pushes into Jongdae, sinking in slowly. Jongdae breathes through his nose, relaxing himself to allow Han to slide in smoother, faster.

There’s something cold, something that isn’t skin just beneath the crown of Han’s cock that startles Jongdae, jolting at the cool sensation when it passes into him. He turns his head in question, eyebrows furrowed and jaw slack as his ass is filled.

“Found this in the box,” Han offers as an explanation. “Been thinking about fucking you with it on all day.”

Jongdae is trying to remember what Han could possibly be wearing when his thoughts are cut short. His ass clenches around Han’s cock, vibrations shooting through him that originate from whatever is around Han’s cock and he doesn’t even care what it is anymore. Jongdae cock dribbles precome onto the comforter, the intensity of the vibrations almost too much when they’re nestled right against his prostate.

Jongdae loses his grip on the blanket, frantically trying to find leverage as Han starts fucking him in earnest, hands splayed on Jongdae’s cheeks to pull them apart. It’s intense, the vibrations moving with Han’s cock, pushing deep into him, then pulling out, losing the feeling for a fraction of a second before it hits full force again. Jongdae fucks himself back as hard as he can, desperate for more.

Han is more vocal, his low moans and panting breaths mixing with the sound of their skin slapping and the lewd noise that accompanies every thrust. Jongdae feels overheated, sweating where his shirt and pants are still mostly on, thighs stinging from where his pants are holding his legs together and he nearly sobs in his frustration.

The abrupt way Han pulls out has Jongdae tossing a dirty look at Han, but it doesn’t last for long. Han rolls Jongdae onto his back, finally getting rid of his pants and underwear as Jongdae wrestles out of his shirt. Han is working on kicking his own clothing away as Jongdae hooks his calves around Han’s legs, forcing him forward because he’s positively aching to be filled, to be fucked until he comes.

Jongdae’s head tips back, eyes closed to appreciate how fucking amazing it feels when Han’s cock glides slippery inside him, both of them heaving out a groan of satisfaction. The vibrating only heightens it, has Jongdae’s cock flexing with every thrust as Han spreads Jongdae’s legs further to go deeper.

From this angle, with his head lost in the bliss that follows Han fucking into him, Jongdae can appreciate the strength in Han’s shoulders, his arms, his stomach as he flexes with every move. Han is an attractive man and that makes it a lot easier to forget - just for a little while - how his personality leaves much to be desired. Like this, Jongdae can stop thinking and let his body take over, fingers digging into Han’s arms to make him go faster.

Jongdae feels it building, his thighs tensing, back lifting off the bed as it throbs from his balls to his cock, finally releasing in spurts of white that shoot up his chest in pulses. He tightens around Han’s cock as he keeps moving, his hips jackhammering into him unforgivingly. Jongdae is loud, moaning out Han’s name with every wave that crashes through him until there’s nothing left but the heat that fills him when Han comes inside his ass, cock buried as far as it can be.

Jongdae is just getting used to the dull vibration still inside him when Han pulls out, cursing and fumbling to get the small metal band off his cock. Jongdae clenches around air, trying to keep Han’s come inside him even as he feels some of it dribbling out. Han flops onto the bed beside him, sweaty and panting and digging the small remote for the toy from under him with a heavy sigh.

It’s silent for a minute, the both of them calming down although Jongdae can still feel phantom vibrations and it’s odd. “That was . . . an enthusiastic surprise,” he finally says, breaking the silence.

“We had a deal,” Han answers thoughtfully. “Sex helps me cope with stress and I seem to have a lot of it lately.”

“Thank you,” Jongdae says, looking over at Han who is now staring at him in wonder. “For coming to me.”

Han nods, smiling at Jongdae in a way that makes him look . . . nice and like less of an asshat. “I know it doesn’t make up for it, but I _am_ sorry. All I could focus on was how much _I_ was hurting, how much _I_ didn’t want to be forced into an unwanted marriage. And I knew you didn’t want it either, but it never crossed my mind to _think_ about how you would feel if I was sleeping with someone else. I’ve always been selfish and it’s hard not to be, even now.”

“No one’s perfect,” Jongdae sighs. “And we all screw up. I probably could have handled it better, but with everything going on, I took your actions personally.”

“Things probably won’t get better,” Han admits. “Change and I don’t get along.”

“Quite honestly, I never expected us to get along. What matters is we’re physically compatible and so far, the sex has been the best part.”

Han huffs out a soft laugh. “The sex is definitely the best part.”

Jongdae stares up at the ceiling, sweat beginning to cool on his skin and itch. He smiles to himself. “Did we just have a moment?”

“I think so,” Han says after a pause.

Jongdae makes a low noise of intrigue before sitting up, grimacing at the mess he’s making on their new comforter. “I’m showering,” he announces, waddling toward the bathroom.

Han rolls over, face down on the bed. “Will you make dinner after?”

Jongdae resists the sudden slip backward that has him wanting to tell Han to make his own food, but he holds his tongue, trying to keep the peace. “Yes, I’ll make dinner when I’m done.”

Later, Jongdae will blame it on the endorphins.

 

It takes less than twenty-four hours before Joonmyun makes an appearance. And nothing good ever comes from Joonmyun showing up with his Politician Smile masking his emotions and Jongdae is reluctant to let him in, but he has food that smells divine and Yifan is in tow. It must be big if Joonmyun decided to bring back up. Han appears in the kitchen - probably drawn by the aroma of Joonmyun’s lasagna - only to stop when he sees Yifan, eyeing him warily. Jongdae knows Yifan can be an imposing figure, but he’s probably the sweetest man he’s ever met. Not that he’s going to tell Han that.

“Joonmyun brought an apology dish,” Jongdae states, watching as Joonmyun’s smile finally disappears.

“I told you it wouldn’t work,” Yifan states, shaking his head.

“Well it was worth a try.”

“Apology for what?” Han asks, moving to the cabinets to take the plates from Jongdae’s hands and put them on the table. It was an unexpected gesture that leaves Jongdae standing there empty handed with a dumb look on his face.

“Let’s eat first,” Joonmyun suggests smartly. “Jongdae isn’t as sharp-tongued when he’s full.”

Jongdae snorts in amusement, but doesn’t argue. Joonmyun is not wrong and his lasagna has always been divine. It positively melts in Jongdae’s mouth in a perfect mix of pasta, sauce, creamy cheese and spinach. Even Han is making noises Jongdae’s only heard in the bedroom every time he takes a bite.

“You might as well go on and blurt it out,” Jongdae announces when his plate is nearly clean, only a few bites of his second serving left.

Joonmyun clasps his hands on the table, clearing his throat and Jongdae has a Really Bad feeling about this. “Our parents - and Han’s parents - have deliberated and finally arrived at the decision that leaving you two to your own devices will lead to a catastrophic failure of your marriage and your duties even with the new parameters.”

Yifan reaches over and pinches Joonmyun on the side. “He’s your brother, not a council.”

“Sorry,” Joonmyun mumbles. “I default into speeches when I think I’m going to be attacked.” Joonmyun eyes Jongdae warily and Jongdae nearly laughs if it weren’t for his fear basically being confirmed. “I know neither of you are thrilled with the situation and all the parents are trying to do is help.”

“Help _how_?” Han inquires, now fully invested in the conversation.

“They’ve hired a marriage counselor that you two will meet with once a week. They hope it will calm things down and get the, uh . . . gears moving.”

“Our gears are plenty moving,” Jongdae informs Joonmyun with a scowl.

“And a marriage counselor will keep them moving and hopefully help you two learn how to get along.” Joonmyun cuts his eyes over at Han who ducks his head. It seems that although none of their parents particularly cared that Han cheated on Jongdae, Joonmyun does and Jongdae can’t be as irritated at his brother’s news.

“There’s no way to get out of this, is there?” Jongdae sighs.

“It’s only an hour a week,” Joonmyun supplies. “And I made sure they hired someone worth the price and the time.”

Jongdae glances warily at a subdued Han and nods for the both of them. “Fine, if it will get them to leave us alone, we’ll do it. How bad can it be?”

 

Well, it’s not the first time Jongdae’s been optimistically wrong about something. It’s only been five minutes and he already wants to bolt for the door, but it’s locked from the outside - _a precautionary measure_ their counselor had said with an innocent smile that belied his intentions. Jongdae should have known the sweet smile on his face had been a clever disguise and he regrets giving in so easily to this.

Minseok, as he introduced himself, probably didn’t know what he was getting himself into when he asked such a simple question. “Why are you here?”

Jongdae has many answers to that, but Han had opened his mouth first and it’s just been downhill since. Despite already knowing Han is a selfish man who doesn’t want to to be married to him, Jongdae’s ego takes a few well-aimed hits to hear it out in the open. Apparently Jongdae is too abrasive for him; Han wants someone docile and easy to put where he wants them. Jongdae doesn’t fit that mold and he’s happier for it, glaring at his husband the entire time. Han seems unaware, his mouth getting him into more and more trouble.

“Our personalities don’t fit and I resent him for the marriage even though I know it’s not his fault,” Han finally ends.

Minseok shifts in his chair with a sigh before turning to Jongdae. “And you?” he inquires, face unreadable.

“I’m here because Han was fucking Sehun in our bed and I kicked him out,” he answers succinctly, getting straight to the point.

“And who is Sehun?” Minseok coaches, looking at Han.

“A friend,” Han scowls, leaning back to cross his arms over his chest.

“Just a friend?” Minseok asks.

Han huffs. “Jongdae and I already discussed this.”

“And now you and I are discussing it.”

Minseok is perpetually calm, something Jongdae wouldn’t be able to do, and he admires the way Minseok keeps his opinions to himself, sits relaxed yet inquisitive without giving anything away.

“My _best_ friend,” Han answers.

“Do you usually have sex with your friends?”

“If they’re so accommodating,” Han snaps before sighing, a hand running roughly through his hair. “No, I don’t. Just Sehun. It’s how our friendship works.”

“With sex.”

“With me getting stressed out and Sehun helping me relax.”

“And you continued this part of your relationship even after you married Jongdae?”

“Yes,” Han answers uncomfortably.

“Because you aren’t attracted to Jongdae?”

Jongdae really doesn’t like where this conversation is going, but he can’t help but want to know what Han is going to say. He rolls his lower lip in his teeth, arms crossed defensively as he watches several emotions fight for control over Han’s face.

“Physically, I find Jongdae very attractive.” Han’s eyes dart over to the chair beside him where Jongdae is sitting.

Minseok makes a quiet noise of understanding and turns to Jongdae. “And do you find Han physically attractive?”

“He’s acceptably attractive.”

Minseok nearly smiles, nodding to himself. “Well then this doesn’t seem to be a total loss. Physical attraction is certainly not enough to keep a marriage going, but it’s a start to something that can be expanded upon.”

“Does that mean we have to keep coming back?” Han complains and Jongdae rolls his eyes.

“Yes. We have a lot to work on.”

 

“Well that could have been worse,” Jongdae announces when they get home, slipping off his shoes and heading right for the couch to faceplant.

“I felt like I was being dissected in there,” Han replies, his nose scrunching in distaste. 

“I think that was the point,” Jongdae supplies, rolling onto his back to watch as Han flops bonelessly on the other couch.

“He knows how to judge with his eyes and that just makes my skin crawl. I’ve never felt like such a horrible person.”

Jongdae snorts. “I’m sure he’s not the first person to call you on it.”

“No, but he’s the first _professional_ to confirm it.”

Jongdae grins to himself, putting his hands behind his head to rest. “I like him.”

“I thought a marriage counselor was supposed to _help_ our marriage,” Han gripes as he stretches out. “I think I dislike you more now than I did before we went.”

Jongdae laughs, tempted to smother himself in the cushions. “You definitely know how to sweep a man off his feet. And just for that, _you_ can make lunch.”

“But I can’t cook!” Han exclaims.

Jongdae stares over at him, sitting up on the couch to inspect his husband with disdain. “What good are you to anyone?”

Han’s chest puffs out with indignance and he looks like a peacock. “I hear I’m great in bed.”

“I’m not keen on surviving off your dick, so how about I teach you how to cook. We’ll start simple.”

Simple is pasta and Jongdae has never seen someone so lost in front of a stove. Han stares at the buttons on the front, cautiously casting glances at Jongdae until he steps in to rescue him. It’s going to be a lot more difficult than he thought.

“Your parents set you up for failure when they neglected your domestic skills,” Jongdae says as he watches Han struggle to add the right amount of pasta to the now boiling water.

“My spouse was supposed to do all the domestic stuff,” Han mumbles, staring down into the pot.

“Lucky for you that your spouse is a practical guy who doesn’t mind teaching you so he doesn’t have to do it all himself.”

Han blinks over at Jongdae helplessly and Jongdae walks away, laughing.

 

Kyungsoo shows up after lunch - probably because Jongdae had ignored his call earlier - and waltzes in when Jongdae opens the door. “You didn’t answer,” he explains, giving Jongdae a sour look.

“I was busy processing after my first _marriage counseling_ session,” Jongdae kindly reminds Kyungsoo.

“Oh, how’d that go?”

The pair sit on the couch and Han walks in, doing a double-take when he sees their visitor. “Hello,” Han greets with a smile.

“Don’t smile at me. I don’t like you,” Kyungsoo remarks, turning his attention from a deflated Han and back to Jongdae who is trying to hold back a laugh. Han looks like a kicked puppy and he slinks out of the room, tail tucked firmly between his legs.

“It was . . . affirming,” Jongdae answers slowly. “I always thought Han was a jerk and he proved it with a witness in the room.”

“You’re not exactly a shining beacon of light yourself,” Kyungsoo jests, knocking Jongdae down a few pegs.

Jongdae sighs. “I know. Everyone seems to think this will make Han and I get along, but I don’t know. We have a long way to go for that. So what about you? What was so important?”

Kyungsoo slumps, wedging himself against Jongdae’s side. “I got dumped.”

Jongdae wraps his arm around Kyungsoo, letting his friend sit in silence because that’s how Kyungsoo copes. He never wants to talk about it; all he needs is company and Jongdae has been Kyungsoo’s choice of company more times than anyone. Kyungsoo plays with Jongdae’s fingers and tosses his legs over Jongdae’s lap and Jongdae rubs his arm affectionately. Han peeks in once, watching the two of them and Jongdae warns him off with a shake of his head when Han opens his mouth to speak. And then he disappears up the stairs with a frown.

Later, after Kyungsoo is gone and the sun has set, Jongdae trudges up to his bedroom, massaging the feeling back into his arm and rolling his neck until it pops. He expects Han to be sleeping, or watching something on the screen and he’s not wrong about the screen being on - some documentary about music influencing fashion in the twenty-first century - but Han’s not watching it. He’s peering through the curtains at Kyungsoo’s retreating figure.

“You two looked cozy,” Han states, turning toward Jongdae with his eyebrows furrowed.

Jongdae shrugs half-heartedly with one shoulder. “He’s my friend.”

“Were you two ever . . . ?”

Jongdae raises an eyebrow in interest, scraping his eyes over Han’s rigid posture and the glare in his eyes. “Are you _jealous_?”

“It’s ridiculous,” Han seethes, hands on his hips now. “I don’t even like you, but you’re supposed to be mine and seeing him on you just -” Han growls low in his throat and Jongdae swallows, a little turned on which brings up a load of internal questions about himself that he doesn’t particularly want answers to.

“Does it feel horrible?” Jongdae goads, walking slowly toward Han who is watching his every move. “Does it eat you up inside to think I want someone who isn’t you, that I touch someone and care for them and it’s not _you_?”

There’s a flash of something indiscernible across Han’s face, something dangerous and the air leaves Jongdae’s lungs in a startled noise when he’s pushed down onto their bed, a solid pressure in his chest that almost hurts. He tries to sit up, hands going for Han’s arms, but Han is crawling over him, sitting on Jongdae’s thighs and pinning him down with a tight grasp on each of Jongdae’s wrists.

“Whether you like it or not, you _are_ mine. And _I’m_ yours. We’re all we have.”

“I guess you _don’t_ want to hear about how Kyungsoo and I used to fuck,” Jongdae retaliates, nearly moaning at the pain that radiates down his arms when Han’s grip tightens.

It never really occurred to Jongdae, or seemed important, that he and Han have never kissed before. They’ve certainly gotten in each other’s faces and they’ve fucked and Jongdae’s seen Han kiss someone else, but _they_ have never kissed. And he never would have thought about it if Han hadn’t just ducked his head and pressed their lips together in a bruising kiss that feels like possession and tastes bitter like regret.

And Jongdae kisses him back. He sinks his teeth in Han’s lower lip, listening to the rumbling moan he gets in return and grins, gasping when the pain in his wrists grows until he’s sure to have bruises the next day.

“You actually like this you sadistic fuck,” Han laughs in Jongdae’s ear, but when Jongdae grinds his hips up, he can feel Han’s cock pushing against the seam of his pants, already growing hard. Han groans, allowing Jongdae to steal his mouth away, tongue licking through his lips to shut him up.

Jongdae is a hot-blooded, virile young man and it never takes much for him to want to have sex, but what’s thrumming through him feels stronger than he’s used to. There’s a desperate edge to the way he pushes against Han, wants to feel all of him and more. This must be what self-destruction feels like.

Even after Han fucks Jongdae until he goes hoarse from screaming, Jongdae clawing down Han’s back to make him do it harder, faster, rougher, _is that all you can do?_ , and after Han carelessly shoves a plug up Jongdae’s ass to keep his come inside because of some odd territorial instinct, Jongdae feels unsatisfied. He lays in their bed, shifting until the plug stops digging further into him and stares at the ceiling as Han sleeps beside him.

Every part of Jongdae aches - his wrists and arms, thighs and calves, hips and stomach, and especially his ass. His rim throbs around the plug and he could take it out, but he doesn’t. It feels like a punishment, like something Jongdae has earned, deserved and he takes the pain silently as something inside him dies.

Han wakes Jongdae early in the morning, only a few hours after Jongdae had gotten to sleep, and replaces the plug with his slick cock. He fucks Jongdae with his face in the pillows and thighs spread painfully apart until Jongdae spurts white on the sheets and Han adds to the come already inside him.

Wordlessly, Han slips away to take a shower and Jongdae sinks to the mattress with tears clinging to his eyelashes and this growing ball of dense, cold emotion settling firmly inside his chest to grow and spread.

 

Later, when Jongdae winces as he walks into the kitchen to start some tea, Han rests a palm gently on his lower back, thumb rubbing into the skin and it sends a chill up Jongdae’s spine. He feels as if he’s been marked, claimed and he pulls away to fill the kettle of water as Han’s eyes follow his every move. But he doesn’t touch him again.

 

“I’d be flattered if I thought you actually cared about me,” Jongdae complains, head tipping back against the tile wall in the shower. The water is warm, the room full of steam and Han has Jongdae lifted off the floor, legs around Han’s waist as he fucks into him quick and dirty. Jongdae holds tight to the lip of the tile near the ceiling, trying to keep his weight from dropping as every thrust of Han’s cock shunts him further up.

Han’s nails dig into his thighs enough for the pain to only make Jongdae’s cock harder as it rubs against their stomachs, precome leaving a sticky line over their skin. Jongdae’s hips ache and it’s difficult to breathe in the humid air. It clogs his lungs, makes him dizzy even as the pressure and friction of Han’s cock keeps him grounded, focused on the increasing pleasure.

He’d meant to wash off the remnants of Han’s come from the night before, but Han had followed, pulling Jongdae in for a kiss with fingers twisted in his hair and Jongdae would be lying if he said it didn’t turn him on. The only way he seems to react physically to Han is when he’s aggressive, dominating. It’s worrisome.

Han comes with a groan, his teeth sinking into Jongdae’s left collarbone. The sting is a rush, traveling hot and fast in a path to his cock as Han fills him up. It’s still not enough and Jongdae can’t let go or he’d fall so he settles for hissing out Han’s name, hoping he’ll listen.

Jongdae sucks on Han’s tongue as they kiss, Han balancing Jongdae’s weight to reach between them, get his fingers around Jongdae’s cock to jerk him off. It’s nearly too hard, Jongdae’s toes curling in the air and he bites down on Han’s tongue when his climax takes him, swallowing down Han’s pained noise with a languid smile.

Han sets Jongdae down carefully, then turns to rinse himself off as Jongdae recovers, leaning against the wall. “I suppose it’s too much to ask, but I’m going to anyway,” Jongdae starts. Han doesn’t even acknowledge he’s heard him and Jongdae takes it as a sign to continue. “Can I fuck _you_ next time?”

Han freezes, turning to look at Jongdae like he’s just grown a second head. “No.”

“Why?”

“Because I said no.”

“That’s not a good enough answer.” Han moves to get out of the shower and Jongdae blocks him, an arm out as he stares at Han up close. “Why?” he asks again.

Han ducks under his arm and goes to stand by the dryer, jaw clenched as he pushes the button to bring it to life. He ignores Jongdae’s question completely and Jongdae curls his lip as he goes back to shower. It’s not as if he’s asking a lot, although it shouldn’t strike him as surprising that Han’s the type to expect the person he’s with to bear the burden of carrying a child so he doesn’t have to do it himself. It fits in nicely with his shit personality.

Jongdae decides to leave the topic alone if he doesn’t want to end up in another argument. It drains so much out of him now that he’s realized he’s trying to reason with a metal wall that does nothing but echo his words back to him in a higher pitched, sarcastic undertone.

Maybe this is how it’s supposed to be. Maybe this is where Jongdae’s life was meant to lead. He’s never really figured out his place in society like everyone around him has. His parents and Joonmyun have politics, Yifan has his hydroponics that feeds into government programs and Kyungsoo has his odd fascination with the history of medicine that will probably lead into a medicinal career. Jongdae has nothing. Jongdae has a sort of interest in a few things, but nothing speaks to him, nothing that he’d want to do for the rest of his life.

Perhaps he was meant to be the one to get pregnant, to stay at home and raise the children while everyone around him lives their lives. It’s not a terrible fate. The government compensates people who stay home with their families well, encouraging them to have more and more children to fill the void in the world.

Maybe Jongdae will only be important, will only matter if he becomes a mindless baby factory.

He sighs and slides his terminal to the side, losing interest in his assignment. What’s the point of school if he’s in his third year and has sampled all there is to offer with nothing catching his interest. It’s a waste of time.

Han walks into the living room, the program he was watching turning off in the kitchen and turning on in the living room as he sits on the couch. It’s like Jongdae isn’t even there. Jongdae lifts his legs onto the couch, stretching them to slip his cold toes under the side of Han’s shirt. Han swats at him, attention still on the screen that’s playing a movie Jongdae vaguely remembers. He’s never been one for romance movies and it’s more than surprising Han is so invested in this one.

Jongdae decides to leave him to it. Maybe the movie will somehow meld into Han’s psyche and make him a better husband, a caring one.


	4. Four

“You look peaky. Are you feeling well?”

Jongdae dodges his dad’s hand as he tries to put it on his forehead, stepping aside to let him in with Joonmyun following, an apologetic look on his face. He mouths a _sorry_ as he passes and Jongdae nods, letting him know it’s fine.

“Are you eating enough? You look thinner.” His dad steps closer, eyes narrowing and there’s an expectant look on his face that suddenly really _does_ have Jongdae feeling bad. “Perhaps a little morning sickness? I have some ginger wafers that can help ease it enough for you to eat. Proper nourishment is key.”

“I’m not pregnant, dad,” Jongdae grumbles. “And I’m not sick - or thinner. I’m exactly the same as when you married me off to the narcissistic asshole who isn’t interested in feigning a relationship with me.”

“Jongdae!” his dad exclaims, staring over Jongdae’s shoulder.

Jongdae turns, resisting the urge to smile. “Oh, hello Han.” Joonmyun snorts into his hand and has to leave the room, face turning red as he muffles his laughter.

“I see the marriage counseling hasn’t taken,” his dad says, arms crossed as he stares unamused at Jongdae.

“We’ve had _one_ session,” Jongdae clarifies. “It’s not like we get a shot in the ass and it makes everything better.”

“Jongdae would know,” Han adds, a sugary sweet smile on his face. “He’s taken lots of shots in the ass.”

Jongdae can hear Joonmyun’s laughter echo in the kitchen and he resists the urge to join him, far too amused at the scandalized look on his dad’s face.

“It seems to me you two aren’t taking this seriously. There are expectations of you, responsibilities the community is relying on you to undertake. This is not a joke.”

“No, it’s not,” Jongdae interrupts, knowing his dad can get long-winded. “It’s a game where you took two people who had no interest in each other and forced them together against their will. And now you’re upset that you aren’t getting the desired results despite us telling you this isn’t what we want.”

Jongdae’s dad looks like he’s just been slapped in the face.

“I’m tired,” Jongdae sighs. “You can see yourself out. Or you can see if your words will have an impact on Han if you want, but I can tell you now they won’t.”

Jongdae hears Joonmyun talking to their dad with his calming voice, gently ushering him out the door, as Jongdae makes his way up the stairs and away from the situation. He feels like crawling under his big comfy blanket and never coming out, so that’s what he does, leaving his clothes in a pile on the floor.

Han makes his presence known a few minutes later by softly clearing his throat. “Are you actually tired or are you escaping?”

Jongdae rolls to see Han standing just inside their room, his face sympathetic which is an odd look on him. “I was escaping a tiring conversation that would have led nowhere,” he answers.

“Yeah,” Han sighs, walking over to sit on the edge of the bed. Jongdae shifts his legs to give him more room. “I’ve had the same conversation with my parents several times and nothing.”

“We’re just a means to an end,” Jongdae says softly, hating the feeling that wells in his chest when the words hit the air, become a spoken reality.

Han nudges his leg and gives Jongdae a smug smile. “But our kid will look amazing. With your bone structure and my genes? There’s no way we can’t hit the genetic lottery.”

Jongdae laughs, lifting his leg so his knee knocks against Han’s back lightly. “You’re not wrong. We’ll make a pretty baby.”

Something in Han’s eyes darkens and Jongdae is drawn to it, watching as Han moves up to him as his teeth worry his lower lip. “So let’s make a baby,” he rumbles, nose pushing to Jongdae’s neck, stealing his breath momentarily.

“Isn’t that what we’ve been doing?” Jongdae says to the ceiling, his body flushing hot when Han runs his tongue over the shell of his ear, then nips at his lobe before moving down.

“Not enough,” Han whispers against his skin.

Jongdae pushes his blankets away to get to Han, fingers balled in his shirt to hold him close as Han kisses him. It’s less rough but just as powerful, just as full of desperation as it usually is. Jongdae thinks that maybe, given enough time, they could just stay like this with Han being considerate, passionate and strong. He wants to think that if they just get used to each other, if they use this physical compatibility to form a deeper bond, neither of them will have to leave.

Han is powerful yet giving as he takes Jongdae in their bed, thrusting slow and with purpose as Jongdae clings to the sheets, head thrown back from feeling every centimeter of Han’s cock when it glides in and out of him. It’s almost enough to pull the webs of unhappiness from his ribs, but not quite.

Han holds Jongdae’s hips off the bed, pushing into him hard and deep, Jongdae’s hands on the wall to push down, moaning as the pleasure mounts, threatening to overtake him. He still doesn’t like Han; Han still doesn’t like him. However, like this, Jongdae can pretend they’re two different people, a couple who are together because they want to be, not because it’s expected of them.

Jongdae shudders when he comes, thighs tight around Han’s waist, his fist milking his cock until he’s groaning from sensitivity, Han still thrusting into him in a steady, unfaltering rhythm.

“Can you get hard for me again?” Han asks, his words cracking when Jongdae clenches around him, shaking his head on the pillow.

“No,” he whines, whimpers because Han’s cock is so hot and thick inside him, keeping his nerves alight and raw.

Han drops his lower half to the bed, leaning down until his breath is fanning over Jongdae’s face, lips brushing his ear. “I think you can,” he states, languidly fucking into Jongdae’s pliant, over-stimulated body. His hips rotate and Jongdae gasps, hands reaching for Han to wrap around his shoulders for support. And even as he sucks in sharp breaths, eyes squeezed shut at the sheer force of the sensations wracking through him, Jongdae’s legs come up to bracket Han’s hips, to pull him in deeper.

Han muffles a deep, guttural groan in Jongdae’s neck, his teeth worrying the area that leads to Jongdae’s shoulder as his pace continues, his hips fucking his cock into Jongdae fluidly, gracefully and without mercy. Jongdae’s leg twitches, his limp cock beginning to harden as sweat drips from his forehead to soak into the sheets.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Han moans and Jongdae makes a noise of his own, nails scratching down Han’s back and to his ass.

Jongdae needs him deeper, moving faster and Han finally picks up the speed, skin slapping loud and the heat encroaching too quickly. Everything hurts, but it’s a pleasurable pain that begins where Han’s cock is spearing him open and rushes through his veins like fireworks, the first wave still dying down when the second hits. It culminates in his gut, his balls tight and cock throbbing, leaking against his stomach, the crown smearing his come over his skin.

Jongdae’s hair is damp and it catches on Han’s fingers when he pushes it out of his face, balling his fist to force Jongdae’s head back. “Fuck,” Jongdae spits, his neck stretched enough to hurt. Han dips low, teeth grazing along his jaw and underneath to bite and tease, lick and suck.

Everything burns and the edges of his vision go dark, choking when his entire body goes rigid, his cock lifting off his stomach enough to add to the mess. He manages to find his voice, crying out as it takes him whole and leaves nothing behind. Han fucks him through it, hips stuttering and he collapses on top of Jongdae when he comes, cock pulsing and jerking inside him until there’s nothing left.

They lay there in a sticky mess, Jongdae staring at the ceiling as he catches his breath, waiting for his eyesight to clear. Han makes an attempt to move, but groans and halts, turning his head so his face isn’t pushed into the pillow. “I have a cramp in my leg,” he complains with a soft laugh.

“You need more protein in your diet,” Jongdae responds, shifting so the blood rushes back to his leg. “Maybe you should lick me clean.” Han raises his head to give Jongdae a disgusted look and Jongdae shrugs. “It was just a suggestion.”

 

The last time Jongdae was in Minseok’s office, he’d been more worried about the fact they couldn’t get out of the room and the way Han couldn’t stop bitching about their situation than his surroundings. Now that he’s a little more at ease - well, maybe not his ass - he takes a look around. It’s a comfortable place to be, unlike most professional offices, which leaves Jongdae more at peace. The walls are covered in calming scenes - a trickling stream over rocks, wind rustling through the trees, and clouds moving slowly across the sky. And mixed in with these are more personal photos. Jongdae sees Minseok in some of them and he assumes this is his family.

His eyes linger on the man who must be his husband, belly round and a bright smile on his face. Another picture down the line is Minseok with a small child clinging to his leg as he rests a hand on his own baby bump. They look happy, in love, and something dark twists inside Jongdae.

“Shall we pick up where we left off from the last time?”

“No,” Jongdae says quickly before Han can open his mouth. “I don’t think I can take anymore of Han’s whining.”

Han cuts his eyes at Jongdae, but says nothing, motioning that Jongdae is free to speak. Minseok nods, encouraging him and Jongdae makes himself comfortable in his seat, legs crossed. “I’d like to bring up something that’s been bothering me and see if you can help us clear the air,” Jongdae begins.

Han doesn’t look so relaxed anymore.

“After the whole Sehun thing, our parents agreed to stay out of our marriage if we give them one child. And I’m not one to refuse sex, but I’m the only one who _takes_ it. I asked Han if we could switch and he said no and wouldn’t talk about it.”

“Han,” Minseok starts, “Would you like to explain to Jongdae why you won’t switch? It would certainly double the odds of one of you becoming pregnant and thus bringing an end to outside involvement.”

Han bristles, hands clenched in his lap. “No, I don’t want to talk to him about it.”

Minseok’s eyes flicker to Jongdae before settling back on Han. “Would you talk to me about it without him in the room?”

There’s surprise on Han’s face and he sits up.

“Would that be alright with you?” Minseok asks Jongdae and even if it’s irksome, Jongdae nods. He’d rather fix the problem than sate his curiosity. Knowing Han, it’s problem some ridiculously vain reason anyway.

Jongdae ends up sitting in the waiting room - after getting the receptionist to unlock it from the outside - for the rest of their hour. It’s not entertaining and he almost falls asleep, jolting back up in his chair when he hears voices. He stands in time to see Han and Minseok round the corner and Minseok sees them off with a genuine, warm smile and a wave.

“How’d it go?” Jongdae asks, mostly as a conversation starter.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

And that’s that. Jongdae is back in his allotted box and neatly shelved next to Han’s other issues - of which there seem to be many.

 

It’s been awhile since Jongdae’s had the chance to get out, to leave Han and everything that attaches them back at home while he escapes with Kyungsoo. There’s a show playing in the downtown theater and together the two men weave their way through the crowd and to the doors. They’re allowed inside after scanning their ID bracelets, having purchased their tickets earlier in the day.

Kyungsoo drags Jongdae along happily so they can get to his preferred section. The theater is a wide circle with stadium seating all the way around, the center area left open. Jongdae usually enjoys sitting in the section that faces the front of the movie for first viewings, but Kyungsoo’s always been an off-center type of guy. Jongdae lets Kyungsoo choose and sits beside him, facing mostly front so Jongdae is pleased.

The theater fills quickly and the lights dim, Kyungsoo reaching over to hold Jongdae’s hand without thinking. Jongdae squeezes his hand and rests it on his leg, content for the moment as the center of the room is filled.

In school, they all learned how movies used to be in 2D, displayed flat on a screen like their news feeds and standard programming, and Jongdae can’t imagine being able to immerse himself in a world he can’t see all of. Nowadays, movies are shown in an all encompassing display that shows every angle of every scene. The rewatch value keeps people coming back several times. One watch from the front will give an audience the main story, but a second and third watch from the sides and maybe even a fourth from the back will bring everything involved into light and Jongdae can lose himself in it.

This particular movie is one he hasn’t seen before so he sits back, slouching in his seat with dozens of other people around him, to drown himself in fictional lives and better stories than his own.

After, he feels a lot better and Kyungsoo takes him out for dinner. They laugh over yogurt covered strawberries and dance their way down the empty roads, street lamps turning on when they’re in proximity. When Jongdae finally makes it home after promising Kyungsoo he can come over the next day for lunch, Han isn’t home.

Jongdae doesn’t care. For the first time in a long time, he feels normal, more like himself.

 

There are two metal bands around Jongdae’s ankles, warm against his skin and humming lightly now they’re activated. Jongdae is sitting in his bed, hair a mess even after he’d attempted to pat it down and, well, everyone better just be happy he pulled on clothes for this. He woke up this morning in a puddle of sweat, forehead burning hot and his nose running, a tickle in his throat forcing him into a coughing fit that only ended when he sneezed so hard he nearly peed on himself.

Taking pity on him, Han had made Jongdae tea with honey to soothe his throat, and even voluntarily searched to find the holobands for Jongdae to wear so he could make it to class. He’d used his terminal to connect to the bands and networked with the school server, scheduling himself to appear in class at the appropriate time. He’ll have to watch the lecture on his terminal, but it’s only a mild nuisance considering he feels like something has stopped up his entire face.

At the very least, Jongdae doesn’t have to worry about Han catching his massively annoying head cold because Han hasn’t so much as touched him in the last four days. He’s been closed off - more than before - ever since the appointment with Minseok and Jongdae keeps his questions to himself so as not to further aggravate the situation. Han’s out of the house more, but he comes home before Jongdae goes to bed and even makes an attempt to cook once. (It was a Bad Experience for them both, and Jongdae made Han promise not to do anything more than boil water without his direct supervision. Han eagerly agreed.)

Kyungsoo keeps sending messages through the terminal, listing off things he needs to pick up at the market on his way to Jongdae’s house after this class so he can help him get better. As closed off as Kyungsoo seems to everyone save the few close to him, he’s quite the considerate caretaker. Jongdae adds peppermint tea to Kyungsoo’s list; it never fails to unclog his nose.

The terminal’s speakers are connected to the house systems so Jongdae can hear the lesson properly. He turns the volume up a little more just to make sure the professor's voice can get through the thick layer of mucus that has his head pounding and a series of hot and cold flashes sweeping through him. He's sweat through his shirt, but now he's freezing, arms around himself and his comforter draped over his shoulders, knowing it won't be long until he has to push it off again. This is ridiculous.

With all the medical advances through the years to adapt males into carrying children, one would think they'd have sat down and figured out how to get rid of a cold without _waiting it out_.

Even plugged into his class, watching as the lecture feed flashes on his screen, Jongdae barely takes any of it in. He has his holo on mute so everyone around them doesn't have to listen to his persistent coughing and sneezing and the curses that follow because his throat feels like it's being ripped open.

He wishes someone was here with him to cuddle even knowing that if someone _did_ try to cuddle against him, he'd push them away because he's gross and sweaty and ew, person in his space. And yet he still thinks about sending out a vague, investigative message to Han to see if he'd be willing to come home so he's not alone.

Jongdae knows he must really be feeling awful if he wants _Han's_ company. He hopes Kyungsoo gets here quickly so he can push the thought away and bask in the aroma of his best friend's remedies and caring touch. And because he's truly miserable, another frame rattling cough tearing through him, Jongdae wonders how amazing it would be if Chanyeol were here. Chanyeol would dote on him, do anything Jongdae needed to feel better, and Jongdae's heart throbs weakly in his chest, wanting and knowing it can't have what it wants.

He shouldn't have thought about Chanyeol. Now everything just hurts.

Jongdae is curled up in bed, pants off and holobands sitting on his bedside table with his terminal, when Kyungsoo arrives. The blankets are pushed to the other side of the mattress and Jongdae's back is to the door, head propped on a stack of pillows in the hopes his nose cooperates with him. It doesn’t.

Kyungsoo whistles when he walks in, and Jongdae twists, noticing Kyungsoo is staring at the backs of his thighs. "I thought you said this has been a ' _sex free_ ' zone," he comments, staring at what Jongdae knows is a mottle of yellowing light brown bruises.

"It has," he rasps through his sore throat. "His hips leave a lasting impression."

"That's impressive," Kyungsoo announces, then pauses. "And painful."

Jongdae shrugs weakly, rolling onto his back. "It's the least of my worries."

"You should shower," Kyungsoo suggests, walking over to aid Jongdae as he sits up. "You'll feel better and I'll have some peppermint tea waiting for you when you're done."

"I love you," Jongdae croaks as he stands on wobbly legs.

And he does feel better after a hot shower, letting the steam clear his head and the water wash away the grogginess valiantly clinging to his limbs. He’s still dizzy when he steps out, resting his weight against the wall as he dresses in soft, loose cotton pants and follows the scent of peppermint down the stairs and into his kitchen. His nose is already starting to clog again and it’s making his ears ring, but he slides the cup toward himself, breathing in the scented steam before taking a sip.

It tastes - and feels - heavenly, and Jongdae moans, declaring his love for Kyungsoo again as Kyungsoo scratches through his wet hair and guides him out to the living room to sit on the couch. There’s already a blanket waiting for when he gets cold, but he’s still over-heated, and Kyungsoo says it could be the fever about to break. Jongdae, however, doesn’t think he’s that lucky.

It’s been years since Jongdae’s been sick - light winter sniffles don’t count - and he reverts into a needy, clingy, whiny child as he rests his head on Kyungsoo’s lap, refusing to let his friend get up even when Kyungsoo tries to coax him with promises of soup. Jongdae just wraps his arms around Kyungsoo’s waist, pushes his face into Kyungsoo’s stomach and falls asleep with his mouth open, nose too stopped up to breathe.

He wakes up hours later, wrapped in his blanket, to find Kyungsoo gone. There’s noise in the kitchen and Jongdae lifts his head that feels way too heavy onto the arm of the couch to peer in the direction of the room. “Soo?” he calls, sniffling pathetically.

It’s not Kyungsoo who answers. Han walks out, his bangs pulled off his forehead and into a little ponytail atop his head and he’s ridiculously cute. Jongdae cracks a smile before sneezing.

“I sent him home,” Han says, walking over to press his palm to Jongdae’s forehead.

“Why?” Jongdae pouts, eyes closing at the touch. Han’s hand is cool and it feels nice, soothing.

“Because I’m here to take care of you now.” Han perches on the edge of the couch, staring down at Jongdae.

“I think I’m hallucinating,” Jongdae tells him. “You’re being nice to me.”

Han flicks Jongdae on the end of the nose playfully. “Don’t get used to it. Now sit up. There’s soup.” Jongdae’s eyes grow wide and the fear must be plain on his face because Han laughs. “Don’t worry. Kyungsoo made it.”

When Jongdae is well fed and less likely to metamorphose into a giant ball of mucus, he can’t bring himself to fight Han off when he lays on the couch with him, the screen on to play in the background. Han is warm and not a bad cuddler, and Jongdae rests his head on Han’s chest, listening to his heartbeat instead of the show that’s playing. Han’s arm is around him, thumb rubbing circles along Jongdae’s shoulder and yeah, he could get used to this.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, pushing his knee between Han’s legs to get more comfortable. Han shifts to let him without complaint.

“Lucky for you that you look adorably pathetic when you’re sick,” Han answers with a smile Jongdae can hear in his voice. “Otherwise I would have quarantined myself.”

Jongdae snorts before burrowing further into Han’s warmth to steal it. “I can’t take anything you say seriously when your hair is up like that.” Han makes a noise of protest and Jongdae grins. “It’s so cute.”

 

It’s days before Jongdae is feeling a hundred percent again and Han has been surprisingly patient through all of it. Even when Jongdae turned obnoxiously verbal about the cute tuft of hair on the top of his head, cooing over how adorable it made him, Han let it slide with no more than a few grumpy protests before shoving food in Jongdae’s mouth to shut him up. It’s almost sweet, like a real relationship, and Jongdae is going to miss it.

The first morning he bounds down the stairs, full of energy and ready to take the day by the horns, Han is waiting with a scowl, rapping two knuckles to the screen on the refrigerator. Their parents have collectively decided they’re coming over for dinner and it takes the wind right out of Jongdae’s sails.

“Fuck,” he announces, slumping on the bar. 

Han passes him an apologetic cup of tea and the rest of his breakfast. “You should invite Joonmyun over to cook for everyone,” Han jests.

“That’s not a bad idea,” Jongdae mumbles, mostly to himself.

It’s actually a wonderful idea.

Joonmyun reluctantly complies after Jongdae explains he desperately needs a buffer between him and the four people who are going to be pestering him about fulfilling his responsibilities. And sure, he’d like to spare Han the headache too as a thanks for being human while he was ill.

And as predicted, they rained down on Jongdae and Han with poorly concealed questions about their sex life and efforts to conceive. Joonmyun could only interrupt so much and by the end of the evening, Jongdae is left with a headache and too many leftovers. Han has been silent since everyone bid their farewells, Joonmyun patting them both on the back in sympathy.

“Don’t they realize _stress_ can inhibit conception?” Jongdae mentions offhand with a sigh, dropping his head as the sound of dishes clinking in the background falls silent.

“I hear that partners switching during sex can double the odds,” comes Han’s voice and Jongdae looks up in surprise.

With Han’s staunch refusal to let Jongdae put his dick near his ass and then the following near week of no sex at all, this is the last thing he expected. He tilts his head curiously at his husband, encouraging him to continue.

Han looks pained, but he does explain. “I’ve been selfish and afraid of committing to the decision we made. I kept telling myself I’d get you pregnant so quickly that I’d never have to deal with being pregnant myself. I’ve been terrified of it my entire life.” Han sighs and leans against the counter, arms crossed defensively over his chest as he stares at the floor. “I had a brother,” he confesses and the past tense makes Jongdae’s stomach twist. “He was born when I was three. I don’t remember him. But I do remember the process of being implanted with his reproductive system killed him when he was less than a week old and my mother was never able to conceive again. I wasn’t old enough to understand, but as soon as I was . . . “ A soft shudder runs through Han. “I was always afraid it would kill me too, that using the implant would trigger the system failure that took my brother.”

“Is that what you talked with Minseok about?”

“Yes,” Han answers, finally looking at Jongdae directly. “And he’s helped. I went back to see him several nights last week.”

“That’s why you weren’t home,” Jongdae muses aloud.

“He suggested I go to my doctor for further testing. I’ve been waiting on the results.”

Jongdae’s forehead wrinkles in confusion. “Isn’t that something they would have checked during the pre-marriage physical?”

“Yes, but I was paranoid.”

“And now?”

Han pushes off from the counter, walking to where Jongdae is standing to wrap an arm around his waist. From this close, Jongdae can see the darkness in Han’s eyes, his pupils dilated and his breathing a little heavier than it should be. “I’ve been wearing the stretcher,” Han whispers, thumbs hot as they push into Jongdae’s jaw when Han cups his face. “And I’m ready.”

Jongdae groans into Han’s mouth when he kisses him, his touch hot and demanding as he licks through Jongdae’s teeth to get to his tongue. It’s difficult not to respond so Jongdae doesn’t fight it, letting himself melt against Han’s weight as it drapes over him. Rough hands pull at Jongdae’s shirt, one of them slipping beneath the fabric to hold his side as Han’s hips roll forward. The bar behind him cuts into Jongdae uncomfortably, but the press of Han’s cock against him is undeniable, and Jongdae grips Han by the hair, pushing forward.

Han grinds on him, nails dragging down Jongdae’s waist and into his slacks as he pants into Jongdae’s mouth, pulling away just enough to breathe. Jongdae takes advantage of the lull to litter Han’s neck with kisses, releasing him to drag his shirt off so he can continue his trail down. They don’t do foreplay, so it’s new when Jongdae gets his mouth around one of Han’s nipples, the sudden wet trail of his tongue dragging a loud moan from Han that echoes in their kitchen.

Jongdae palms Han’s cock through his pants, squeezing around the length of his shaft when he teases his teeth over Han’s nipple, and he feels the way Han’s cock kicks in his hold, grinning in satisfaction. He’s going to enjoy this.

This time it’s Han with lube stored in his pocket, pushing the packet at Jongdae as he strips the rest of the way, kicking his pants off and climbing onto the bar. Jongdae gets a glorious view of Han’s cock hanging between his legs and then up to his ass before Han rolls to lay on his back, hands under his thighs to pull his legs up at the knees. It does funny, distracting things to Jongdae when he sees the stretcher inside Han, the way he’s displaying himself so openly, mumbling for Jongdae to _do something before I come all over myself_.

Jongdae feels his own cock throb when he settles in front of Han, breathing ragged when he runs the pad of his thumb around Han’s rim where it’s spread wide around the stretcher. Han tenses, hissing and wiggling against Jongdae’s touch like he needs it to survive. He’s already slick, his crack shining with lube and Jongdae wonders how long he’s had it in. It’s easily opened Han up to the thickness of his cock already.

“Hurry up,” Han demands again, nails digging into his skin and cock laying hard on his stomach, precome leaving behind a sticky trail. Jongdae momentarily thinks about licking it up until Han groans again, reminding him to get moving.

Jongdae’s pants don’t even come all the way off; they fall to his ankles to stay as Jongdae strokes himself, hardening fully as his other hand begins pulling the stretcher out of Han’s ass. The stretcher leaves Han’s hole clenching around nothing, and Han wriggles on the countertop invitingly.

With one last questioning look that gets him cursed at, loudly and aggressively, Jongdae lines the crown of his lube slick cock to Han’s rim, rocking forward enough for it to push through. Han’s body clamps down around Jongdae’s cock, hot and tight, and Jongdae brackets Han’s hips with his palms, scooting him to the edge of the counter so he can slide the rest of the way in unhindered. Han’s head drops to the granite with a low, pained groan, and Jongdae holds a moment, appreciating the way Han feels.

When Han is the one with his dick up Jongdae’s ass, he’s fairly quiet, but put something in _his_ ass and the panting moans and loose-tongued demands are never ending.

Once he’s grounded, and Han is back to threatening his balls if he doesn’t do something to alleviate the pain in his dick, Jongdae pulls out and thrusts back in quick and hard enough to finally shut Han’s mouth. It doesn’t stop him from moaning and groaning, whining and whimpering as Jongdae takes him roughly on the countertop, but at least there are no insulting words slipping through.

Han releases his legs, letting them drop to wrap around Jongdae’s waist, bringing him in closer, Jongdae thrusting into him deeper. Jongdae’s fingers grip tighter to Han’s hips as Han lifts. There’s sweat dripping down the sides of his flushed face and his lips are chapped, bitten red. Jongdae kisses him, amazed at how easily Han’s mouth falls open, tongue slipping through to muffle the sounds. Han locks his ankles, pushing them urgently to the base of Jongdae’s spine, rocking his hips in time to Jongdae’s thrusting.

Jongdae, being far nicer a person than Han, reaches between them to stroke Han’s cock, palming over the head to wet his hand before pumping over the hot, hard flesh that throbs in his grip. Han tangles fingers in Jongdae’s hair, using it as an anchor as his moans grow desperate, high-pitched and his entire body locks when he comes. It splashes hot over Jongdae’s knuckles and drips to pool on Han’s stomach as Jongdae pushes his cock through the pulsing muscles now clenching around his cock.

Han makes these pitchy, breathy whines that kickstart the coiling burn in Jongdae’s gut, urging him to fuck Han relentlessly in search for his own end. He lets Han milk his climax from him, jerking forward into Han’s willing body as he fills him with come.

Han sags against him, catching his breath as his arms drop uselessly to his sides.

“I probably should have asked, but was that your first time?”

Han huffs out a soft laugh and then grimaces as it pushes Jongdae’s cock from him. “No, but it’s been a long time,” he answers. “A really long time.”

Jongdae feels a little proud and a lot smug when Han has to limp his way to the stairs to go wash up, but not before Jongdae reminds him to wear a plug for the night to speed things along. Han tells him to go fuck himself, but after Jongdae busies himself gathering all their clothing - wiping his dick and hand clean on Han’s shirt - and then finishing putting away all the food from dinner, he goes upstairs to find Han laying naked in bed, a simple white plug nestled between his cheeks. Jongdae smacks his small ass just for good measure and gets swatted for it.

 

To an outsider, it would seem things were stagnant. Jongdae and Han still can’t quite get along without someone sneaking in an insult that leads to arguments ranging from mild to aggressive fucking in whichever room the fight started in. Sometimes it’s Jongdae who gets the better of Han, flipping him onto his knees to fuck into him from behind, face pushed to the plush carpeting of the living room floor so he doesn’t have to listen to him. And other times Jongdae will find himself against a wall, spine rubbing uncomfortably over the surface as he’s shunted up with every thrust, his legs wrapped firmly around Han’s waist.

During this time, Jongdae discovers many things including the need to soak in a warm bath to ease the aching of his ass. But he also learns Han has a distaste for onions - cooked or raw - and he only has to shave every four days to Jongdae’s three before stubble shows over his lip. Jongdae discovers Han jogs almost daily and he takes a dance class twice a week to keep in shape. (Jongdae goes with him on one of his jogs only to lose interest, and his breath, halfway through. Han was amused. Jongdae was not.)

Minseok helps. They continue to visit him weekly. He’ll question their daily routines and suggest ways for them to interact more, mesh together as a unit instead of taking two separate paths. Jongdae feels mildly guilty because Minseok really does try. But they just don’t _mesh_ well aside from the way their bodies interlock periodically out of a need for reproduction and a desire to be fucked into a stupor.

Jongdae runs across Han on campus once, his stomach bubbling unpleasantly when he sees Sehun sitting across from him. The smile that Han has for Sehun is one that’s never directed at Jongdae. While he receives the smirks and smug looks, the devious and dirty upturns of Han’s lips, Sehun gets the one that’s genuine, full of affection. And he’s not jealous. That would imply he wants Han as his own. No, it’s not jealousy that burns in Jongdae but regret.

He doesn’t tell anyone about it, even keeping it from Kyungsoo, because he feels like an awful person. What if he’d kept those two from something better, something greater? In his heart he knows he tried his best to stop this marriage, but there is always the gnawing that questions if he fought hard enough.

Jongdae’s life morphs from one series of premarital routines and into a postmarital schedule he follows on instinct. He takes his classes even if he sees no further point in them. On his early mornings, he leaves breakfast for Han. On his later mornings, there is food left out for him and he cleans up after. Nights are full of cooking dinner, doing his laundry (Han does his own), school assignments and catching up with the news. Sometimes Kyungsoo pops by to keep Jongdae company while glaring at Han when he walks through the room.

There’s little in the way of excitement save for the biweekly dinners their parents insist on, telling the both of them that they will continue until they see fit to stop checking in to ensure the rules are being followed even if by doing so, they’re breaking the rules. Those are the nights that push Jongdae to the end. Jongdae and Han haven’t been slack on the sexual end of their marriage and yet it’s still their fault neither of them is pregnant. It makes Jongdae antsy, jumpy and ready to snap at the slightest sound. Those are the nights he begs Han to fuck him until he can’t move, can’t think, can’t remember.

The days bleed together, the weeks slipping past like sand through his fingers and Jongdae finds himself worn thin, shaking one morning as he tries to get out of bed and simply can’t. The weather has gone from warm to cool, crisp autumnal winds biting at fingers and noses. Jongdae watches bleary-eyed as Han wraps a maroon scarf around his neck and face in order to leave, only pausing in passing to ask if Jongdae is feeling alright.

“I think we should go to the doctor,” he answers, tone unwavering and eyes focused on the wall over Han’s shoulder. “Just to make sure we aren’t broken.”

Jongdae can’t see the look on Han’s face, but he nods, agreeing. “I’ll set it up.”

 

“There’s nothing wrong with either of you.”

Jongdae feels his heart dip in his chest as Han rests a hand reassuringly on his thigh. Their doctor, a man with graying hair on the sides and a distant, almost uncaring set to his mouth, looks at the terminal in his hands, finger flicking through the pages. “You are both in perfect health. It can take a while to get pregnant. Patience is the key.”

“Patience,” Jongdae spits as soon as they’ve changed out of the aquamarine hospital gowns and back into their regular attire, walking side-by-side out of the building. “Tell that to our parents.”

Han shrugs. “I had him send his analysis to our parents before we left,” Han says casually. “Hopefully it will get them off our backs.”

Jongdae blinks at Han in surprise. “I could kiss you.”

Han grins, turning to Jongdae as they stand on the sidewalk. He taps his cheek and Jongdae is so thankful that he plants a sloppy kiss right on Han’s cheek, complete with an obnoxious noise to go with it.

“Gross,” Han whines, wiping at his face as Jongdae laughs, walking ahead of him.

 

Jongdae’s good mood lasts as long as it takes for Joonmyun to drop by for a visit. It’s been a few blissfully quiet days. Usually their parents would have shown up the previous evening for their ritualistic vivisection of Jongdae and Han’s sex life, but they’d dutifully backed off after Han’s maneuver with the doctor. It takes the edge off at the very least.

It’s the middle of the day and Jongdae would question Joonmyun’s motives if he wasn’t positive he was sent as a tool of their parents because they just can’t keep to themselves. Joonmyun, however makes no mention of their parents or Jongdae’s predicament as he shuffles through the kitchen to make some tea. He’s always preferred chamomile or green tea which is why it comes as a surprise when Joonmyun goes for the ginger.

Joonmyun also makes small talk, asking Jongdae about how his classes are going, if he’s found something that piques his interest enough to continue studying, while they wait for the tea. Joonmyun never makes small talk. He speaks when necessary which means there’s something pressing on him.

They take the tea in the living room, Joonmyun settling into the couch with Jongdae beside him.

“You can stop with the pretenses,” Jongdae remarks, watching the way Joonmyun’s shoulders curl in some as he drinks. His eyes close tight before he blinks them open. “You haven’t asked me about my classes since freshman year because you know I’ll come to you first if there’s anything to say. So why are you really here? It’s not to catch up.”

“No it’s not,” Joonmyun is quick to say, pulling his legs onto the furniture, knocking his knee against Jongdae’s softly. “But I would still rather you be calm before I say anything.”

“That doesn’t make me calm.”

Joonmyun pats his leg fondly. “It’s nothing about _you_ and it’s not bad news. So drink your tea and be quiet. You’re ruining the mood.”

“There’s a mood?” Jongdae grumbles to himself, but he does as Joonmyun says. His brother wouldn’t lie to him; Jongdae believes in Joonmyun more than he believes in anyone.

There is a flush to Joonmyun’s cheeks, the telltale signs of bags forming under his eyes and Jongdae notes he might have lost a little weight which isn’t good for a man as small as Joonmyun. He suddenly worries for Joonmyun’s health. He’s heard that politics can age a man, has seen it in the lines on his father’s face and the near permanent furrow in his brow. Joonmyun is too good for that.

Joonmyun doesn’t seem to be in a rush. Even after their tea is gone, he takes the cups to the kitchen to rinse them before returning to sit beside Jongdae, taking his hand and threading their fingers. “Do you remember when we were little and you used to follow me around? Dad used to call you my shadow,” Joonmyun muses with a longing smile. “You refused to answer to your name. They had to call out for Big Joonmyun and Little Joonmyun or you’d crouch and sulk until they got it right.”

Jongdae shakes his head, squeezing Joonmyun’s fingers. “I remember. I also remember you’d push me away and tell me to stop.” Jongdae looks over at Joonmyun who is studying their clasped hands. “What is this really about?”

“I didn’t want you to hear this from anyone else and I wanted to be here for you just in case . . . “ Joonmyun sighs and rests his head on Jongdae’s shoulder. He used to complain that Jongdae wasn’t supposed to be taller because he was the younger brother, but it comes in handy for moments like this. “I’m going to have a Little Joonmyun,” Joonmyun says quietly.

Jongdae’s entire body freezes. “You?” he manages to choke out. “Or Yifan?”

“Me,” Joonmyun clarifies, squeezing their hands again. “It wasn’t planned. It just . . . happened. And I’m happy about it.”

“Me too,” Jongdae whispers, swallowing down every wretched, self-loathing emotion that tries to bubble up from his stomach.

“You don’t have to lie to me,” Joonmyun says. “I know this can’t be easy.”

“But it’s you,” Jongdae replies with a soft laugh. “I know how happy you are with Yifan, and just because I’m not as fortunate doesn’t mean I can’t be happy for you.”

“Father isn’t happy,” Joonmyun admits shrinking further into Jongdae’s side. “He gave me one of his _sacrifice for the greater good_ speeches because I have too promising a career ahead of me.”

“Did you tell him to send that shit directly back up his ass?”

Joonmyun laughs and a bit of the weight lifts from Jongdae’s heart. Joonmyun, of all people, deserves this happiness. The two brothers sit together on the couch, taking comfort in each other until Han comes home several hours later, doing a double-take at the pair.

“You’re not staying for dinner?” Han inquires as Joonmyun gets up to leave, slipping on his shoes at the door. What Han really means is _why aren’t you going to cook for us_ and Jongdae shoots him a dirty look.

“Yifan will be home soon,” Joonmyun answers, his entire countenance brightening. “Good night.”

The door closes behind him and Jongdae feels his knees wobble, a hand out to catch his weight on the wall. He can’t help the sob that rips up his throat, tearing at his chest. The tears well too quickly for him to blink away, and Han is beside him in an instant, gathering Jongdae into his arms. Jongdae just clutches at his shirt, face pushed to Han’s shoulder as every single aching self doubt pours out of him in streams.

Han doesn’t ask, not until Jongdae has managed to pull himself together enough to back away, wiping his eyes on his shirt and leaning back against the wall. His eyes hurt and his nose is running and he feels like a lead weight, drained and useless.

“What’s wrong?” Han finally asks, his hands running up and down Jongdae’s arms. It’s almost like he cares.

Jongdae pushes from the wall as his stomach twists uncomfortably. “Joonmyun is pregnant.”

Han’s hands drop and he takes a step back, letting out a long rush of air.

“I’m going to lay down.”

Han doesn’t follow him up the stairs and Jongdae almost wishes that he would. Being alone isn’t what he wants, but it’s all he has. The hollow ache in his chest doesn’t let up, burrows deeper into him as he lays down, pulling the covers up to his nose. He doesn’t fall asleep, but he takes stock in all the ways he’s managed to fail as a person, as a son, as a citizen. Since birth, everyone is taught that procreation is the most important goal, the one responsibility that must be attained. He’s seen the way steriles are ostracized, looked at as dead weight and he used to be the same until he met a few of them, saw the good they can do in this world.

Jongdae may be selfish in wanting to follow his own path, in desiring for more than what everyone wants from him, but he’s always known he’s going to have children. It was never a question of yes or no, but of when and with who. And now that he has Han - whether he wants him or not - it was supposed to be easy.

It feels as if he’s failed, he’s not good enough and it drags him under unforgivingly. Nothing is worse in this world than not having children.

Han comes upstairs later, sitting on the edge of the bed. “It’s not a race,” Han voices. Jongdae shrugs noncommittally. “We _will_ have a baby,” he continues.

Jongdae rolls to face him, sees the determined set of Han’s jaw, the unfamiliar sincerity in the way that he looks at him. He sits up, blankets pushed away to wrap his arms around a surprised Han, heart beating quickly as he crawls on his husband. “We have to keep trying,” he whispers against Han’s lips before kissing them.

Jongdae wants comfort, someplace he feels safe and all he has is Han - Han who doesn’t question, just follows Jongdae’s lead until he understands, pressing Jongdae into their mattress to fuck him nice and slow. Jongdae closes his eyes, clings to Han’s back as he imagines him as someone else, moans at the pleasure that zips through him with each deep thrust of Han’s cock inside him and thinks of a different face, a lower pitched moan when he comes inside him.

Jongdae falls asleep feeling worse than before, knees pulled to his chest and Han knocked out on the other side of the bed.

 

Joonmyun’s sudden, unexpected pregnancy has an unintended side effect. Now that their father is playing the wounded card, he’s managed to strong-arm Han into agreeing to bring Jongdae and attending one of his political fundraisers. The very thought of being paraded around on Han’s arm with his father acting proud in the background makes Jongdae nauseous, but he agrees if only to placate his dad.

This is the last place Jongdae wants to be, tugging at the high collar on his fitted white shirt and fidgeting as his father drones on and on, standing on the stage. Jongdae’s dad is standing off to the side, practically bursting with joy and Jongdae is suddenly thankful he’d never been entrenched in this part of the family. People eat out of his father’s palms willingly, cheering him on while sipping expensive champagne.

Jongdae doesn’t understand the point; the elections are mostly useless posturing because the incumbents never lose. The odds of his father being ousted from his precious seat are slim to none even if he never ventured from his house again. But like a dutiful son, Jongdae stands at the end of the speech to applaud with the rest of the puppets.

“We only need to mingle for a little while,” Han reassures Jongdae when people begin milling about, mostly in the direction of the tables covered in food.

They’re headed right for it when Jongdae hears a booming laugh. His heart stutters to a stop before speeding, Jongdae’s mouth dry as he cranes his neck, searching for the source. He so much wants to see Chanyeol, but he isn’t prepared when he actually sets eyes upon him. Chanyeol looks good in his expensive pressed clothing, his hair tamed into soft strands that fall straight in his eyes. He flicks his head to move them out of the way as he laughs. There’s a woman on Chanyeol’s arm. She’s beautiful, her hold possessive and Jongdae really needs to find somewhere that’s far from this place.

It’s too late. Chanyeol glances his direction and freezes. The tension is palpable, Chanyeol untangling his arm from the lady at his side to walk over. Jongdae pulls his hand free from where Han’s been holding to him and tries to breathe.

“Jongdae,” Chanyeol greets, his smile ever-present, but far less radiant than Jongdae knows it can be. “Isn’t this Joonmyun’s regular beat?”

“Chanyeol,” Jongdae exhales with a shaky laugh. “Yes, well, Joonmyun has a case of pregnancy and couldn’t make it. Substitute second son to the rescue,” he jokes poorly.

Beside him, Han clears his throat and something in Chanyeol’s demeanor switches and he seems smaller. “Chanyeol, this is Han, my husband.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Han responds politely.

Chanyeol nods with a, “you too,” before rocking back on his heels. “My date will be waiting for me, but it was nice seeing you. Goodnight Jongdae. . . Han.”

 

(“Who is Chanyeol?” Han asks as soon as they’re home.

Jongdae pulls at his clothes, stripping them off efficiently and quickly. “The man I _wanted_ to marry.”)

 

Jongdae finds himself in a position he'd never thought he'd be in. Joonmyun has been messaging him daily with updates on his pregnancy - something Jongdae both finds sincerely sweet and grossly unnecessary all at once. He's not keen on knowing how many times Joonmyun's had to dry heave over the toilet or the way he puts away food to not lose weight during the first trimester.

The only person Jongdae has ever met that's as perpetually happy about pregnancy symptoms as Joonmyun is Zitao, their cousin Jongin's husband. Ever since the news spread that Joonmyun - the promising golden child of the family - had gone the familial, domestic way, Jongin and Zitao had started coming by on an almost daily basis for support seeing as their father is being a total jackass about it. Zitao is further along than Joonmyun with a bump that pushes out his shirt when he stands that Jongin can't seem to take his eyes off of.

Jongdae remembers when shy, soft-spoken Jongin had become enamored with someone from one of those speed-dating services his parents had forced him to keep attending. No one seriously believed Jongin could be so head over heels after only speaking with Zitao for an hour, but it took less than six months for them to marry and they've been the picture perfect example of domestic bliss since. It was only a matter of time before they added to their family; Jongdae's just surprised it's Zitao carrying the baby and not Jongin. He's always expressed an interest in being the pregnant one, but he's practically glowing as if he's the one with the bump and not Zitao.

Joonmyun is just over two months along and he's ensconced in a hushed conversation with Zitao on the couch about what to expect next and the ease that comes with making it out of the first trimester. Jongdae watches enviously as Yifan dotes on Joonmyun, as Jongin maintains a constant physical connection with Zitao that seems instinctive, habitual. All their smiles are infectious, impossible to block out and it lifts Jongdae’s spirits out of the dark hole they’ve been in. Ever since he’d run across Chanyeol, he’s felt lost, lonely even with Han always around. And he feels intensely guilty about that too.

He feels like a terrible brother because he can’t be as excited as he should be. Joonmyun is practically glowing and Jongdae basks a little in it, steals a bit of that happiness for himself because he’s incapable of finding any in his own life. It's wonderful to see his brother's smile so bright and the constant looks he shares with Yifan who appears to be bursting at the seams with joy. Their pregnancy hadn't been planned, but it's impossible to tell with the way they're acting.

“Thank you,” Joonmyun whispers to Jongdae, arms wrapped around him in a tight hug. “It means a lot to me that you’re here.”

Jongdae puts on a smile, resting his chin on Joonmyun’s shoulder. “Where else would I be? _Someone_ has to be around to pick at you when you start getting big.”

He gets a pinch on the side from a laughing Joonmyun and considers his mission accomplished, leaving as the four of them bond over ridiculous things like baby furniture and family names. He'd rather let them have their moment without fifth wheeling.

One day, he thinks, he’ll find his own place in all this.


	5. Five

Winter is brutal, cold winds sweeping through the cracks and Jongdae suffers from a permanent case of chapped lips and a red nose. Lucky for him he has someone to hold him at night, chase the cold from his toes and fingers. Han is a solid presence, subdued by the bleak weather and the steady progress of their marriage counseling meetings.

Jongdae never thought anything would come of them, but Han has been slowly opening up and after Jongdae recovered from the initial shock, he’d reciprocated. Inside the sanctity of Minseok’s office, they discussed Han’s conflicted emotions over Jongdae’s reaction to seeing Chanyeol, delved into the numerous ways they could talk with each other without it devolving into an argument, learned that behind a fierce exterior, the both of them are simply looking for the same thing. It takes work - a _lot_ of work - and they both agreed to put forth the effort.

It’s still far from perfect. There are times when they scrape together unpleasantly, bristling and rising to the bait of ill-timed words until they’re screaming and calling each other names. Those are the nights where Jongdae knocks on Kyungsoo’s door and spends hours wrapped in his best friend’s arms as Kyungsoo describes all the best ways to permanently maim Han without killing him.

And then there are the quiet days where Jongdae can see the smile on Han’s face even from under the layers of his scarf and he digs through the fabric to kiss him, let Han hold him close before they have to brave the cold in the name of education. Jongdae learns to make Han’s favorite dumplings, laughs when Han tries to do the simplest of tasks in the kitchen before taking over, hip checking him out of the way. Han will hover behind him, arms wound around Jongdae’s waist and chin propped on his shoulder to watch.

There’s affection there. It’s not love. It’s a far cry from love, but Jongdae will take it and keep it wound tight around his chest to keep his heart from falling to the floor. It’s difficult not to be optimistic when he wakes up warm, Han’s leg wedged between his thighs and Jongdae’s body pleasantly aching from the night before. He knows it’s going to be too cold outside the safety of the two comforters on top of them, even with the temperature controlled room keeping it warm, and he decides that a weekend morning gives him full rights to close his eyes again and soak up the attention.

It’s hours before he wiggles out of bed, Han gone without waking him and the smell of food wafting up the stairs. Eggs. Han has become a whizz with eggs; they’re safe and hard to mess up terribly, especially when they’re shoved between two pieces of buttered toast. Jongdae lets it pull him down the stairs, socked feet sliding over carpet until he’s teetering on the bottom. He’s wearing one of Han’s incredibly ugly sweaters - dark green with gray stripes, fraying around the edges - because it’s large and warm and he likes the way the sleeves run to the tips of his fingers.

“That’s mine,” Han hums when Jongdae slides into the kitchen to inspect the food.

“So am I,” he replies without a thought, stealing a bite of the cheese Han is about to add to the omelets. They don’t look pretty, but they smell nice and Jongdae perches himself at the bar to watch. He’s still sleepy, eyes droopy and heartbeat loud in his ears. Lazy mornings like this make it easy to think about a future, to imagine a child added to the routine they’ve sorted out over the months. Jongdae absently runs a hand over his flat stomach, sighing loudly.

It’s great the relationship he has with Han is softening, but they still don’t have a child to show for all their efforts. Rarely a night goes by without them having sex, sometimes twice. Jongdae is well-versed in picking up when Han has been wearing the stretcher or has replaced it with one of the thinner, longer vibrators from the box. The sex is definitely better now that they know what the other wants, seeking out pleasure and not just the ending. There’s no rush when Jongdae crawls over Han and kisses him dirty, already stretched wide from a toy, slick and waiting for Han to fill him up. There’s no reason to go fast when Han pushes his ass back, spine bent toward the bed as he fists the sheets, moaning at the slow, teasing way Jongdae holds him open with his cock head before finally pushing in.

“We should go to the market after we eat,” Han mentions, sliding a plate over to Jongdae until it hits against his elbow to get his attention. Jongdae hums, nodding as he inhales the amazing smell of his omelet.

“You’re getting really good at this,” Jongdae admits between bites, filling his stomach quickly. It warms him from the inside, a pleasant sensation that rushes to his toes and his head.

“I had help,” Han responds, pausing to pour the water for their tea. They both seem to be on a permanent diet of peppermint to keep their stuffy noses at bay. It’s perfect to wash down the meal and Jongdae is ready to roll himself back to bed and curl under the blankets for the rest of the day. Sadly, Han is right. They need to go to the market.

Despite the chill in the air, the biting winds seeking chinks in their armor to blow through and freeze them, there are a lot of people in the market. Jongdae clings to Han’s arm as best he can, hoping to leech a little body heat through their layers. There are heaters placed all around so it’s not so bad, but Jongdae doesn’t let go. And even with the tip of his nose going numb and his knees knocking, Jongdae could go to sleep.

His feet drag and his head falls to Han’s shoulder as they walk. Han just puts an arm around him and tugs him along after giving him a questioning look. Jongdae shrugs, assuming he’s probably coming down with something. He’s never agreed well with the cold and this year seems to be the one that’s going to knock him on his ass.

Jongdae feels sweaty under his coat suddenly, uncomfortable and definitely not himself. He shifts away from Han and into the breeze he’d been blocking with his body for relief. Han pulls him back, peeling off a glove to put his hand on Jongdae’s forehead.

“Do we need to go?” Han asks and Jongdae shakes his head.

“No, I’ll be fine.”

Han doesn’t look too convinced, keeping his eyes on Jongdae as they weave through the stalls to refill their pantry and refrigerator. Han goes heavy on the peppermint tea and grabs extra ginger just in case. Jongdae adds a large bottle of honey and they call it a day.

They’ve been borrowing Joonmyun’s car for their weekly trips to the market and Han drops Jongdae and the groceries off at home before taking it back. And if every other week is a giveaway, Han will be driven home by Yifan who refuses to let him walk. Jongdae tasks himself with putting everything away, taking his time after shedding his coat and scarf. He still feels overheated, off balance. Eventually, he has to sit on the kitchen floor to keep from falling over, vision going dark in his periphery and forcing him to lay down.

That’s how Han finds him.

Jongdae groans when Han raises his head, cold hands on Jongdae’s cheeks and it feels wonderful.

“What’s wrong?” he hears in the background, cracking his eyes open as Joonmyun rushes into the kitchen. His cheeks are pink and his forehead is creased with worry. Behind him, Zitao’s head pops up and Jongdae has to deal with two coddling men fussing over him as Han lifts him to his feet.

“I’m fine, really,” Jongdae insists. Joonmyun is unconvinced, pushing Jongdae until he sits at the bar and telling Han to finish putting things away. “Shouldn’t you two be keeping your distance from me?” Jongdae grumps as Joonmyun and Zitao, with their rounding bellies, begin rifling through his kitchen to make tea while helping Han with the groceries.

It’s a little funny to see Joonmyun with his tummy extended, carrying himself differently than he used to with the added weight now that’s he’s past the first trimester and creeping midway into the second. He makes for a happy pregnant man. The only person who could _ever_ be happier is Zitao. He cradles his larger baby bump reverently, constantly stopping to talk to it, petting over it when the baby kicks and grinning in delight at every little thing. It used to piss Jongdae off seeing him so perpetually happy, but now it’s just entertaining, endearing even.

Between the three of them, they get Jongdae to drink down a glass of water, a cup of peppermint tea and a bowl of soup - _”I’m going to be pissing for days”_ \- before sending him up to bed. He’s not running a fever and he doesn’t have a scratchy throat, cough or a stuffed up nose. Hopefully it’s just something minor he can sleep off.

Jongdae immediately passes out when his head hits the pillow, sleeping until he feels Han’s weight on the bed, pulling him close. “Go back to sleep,” Han whispers, hand warm as it runs up Jongdae’s back when Jongdae turns to face him. “It’s bedtime.”

Jongdae doesn’t resist.

Jongdae sleeps until his bladder wakes him up just after dawn, then crawls back to bed and dozes for a little while longer. Han insists on getting more food and water in him and Jongdae naps on the couch as Han cooks, startling awake to lazily stab at his food as Han calls Joonmyun because he’s not any better.

Jongdae stays laying on the couch, eyes unfocused on the screen Han turned on for him. Joonmyun makes it over not long after with a never-ending list of questions.

“You’re sure you’re not nauseous?” he asks for a fifth time and Jongdae groans, nearly pushing his brother off the cushion, but settling for patting his belly instead.

“My stomach isn’t the problem.”

Joonmyun looks pensive, lips pressed in a thin line. “Well I brought you something anyway. Make sure you take it.” Joonmyun leaves a bag on the coffee table and leaves, but not without petting through Jongdae’s hair first.

Jongdae spends the day catnapping on the couch and apologizing to Han for not being good company. Han waves him off every time and asks him if he needs anything else. Han even carries him up to bed after a light dinner and Jongdae curls against him, his head heavy and eyes closing no matter how much he tries to keep them open.

Jongdae misses classes on Monday, too exhausted even to pull out the holobands, which prompts Kyungsoo to show up immediately after. Jongdae is so thankful to see his friend that he drags Kyungsoo onto the bed, both arms wrapped tight around him and Kyungsoo laughing as Jongdae gets comfortable.

“You seem in good spirits for someone who claims to be sick,” Kyungsoo announces as he cuddles with Jongdae willingly.

“I don’t _feel_ sick,” Jongdae sighs. “Just tired. So very tired.”

Kyungsoo hums thoughtfully. “Must be all that sex finally catching up to you.”

Jongdae laughs. “Jealousy is petty.”

He can feel the way Kyungsoo’s nose scrunches against his chest. “I haven’t had sex in so long,” he complains.

“I’d volunteer but I don’t have the energy,” Jongdae jokes and Kyungsoo weakly hits him on the chest.

“I wouldn’t have sex with you right now even if you stripped naked and promised to ride me,” Kyungsoo answers. “You smell horrible. It’s way past time for a shower.”

Jongdae whines, rolling onto his stomach after Kyungsoo wiggles out of his arms.

“Come on,” Kyungsoo urges, smacking Jongdae solidly on the ass.

It’s a good thing Han isn’t home because Kyungsoo doesn’t pull any punches. He climbs naked into the shower with Jongdae and forces him under the spray. Jongdae would purr if he were a cat as Kyungsoo scratches his scalp while shampooing his hair, then washing the rest of him. Jongdae leans against the wall, eyes mostly shut. He reaches out to tweak Kyungsoo’s nose, getting a glare and his hand batted away.

“You’re such a child,” Kyungsoo grumbles, bodily hauling Jongdae out of the shower and to the dryer. Jongdae leans heavily on Kyungsoo to keep him from going anywhere, uncaring that they’re both standing naked in the middle of his bathroom.

“And you’re in a very compromising position with a married man,” Jongdae reminds him, a hand snaking down to tap Kyungsoo on the ass.

“If you weren’t sick . . . “ Kyungsoo threatens, letting his words hang in the air. Jongdae turns to rest his head on Kyungsoo’s shoulder, sighing.

“You’d still manage to end up naked with me. It’s our thing.”

Kyungsoo twists Jongdae’s nipple. “It’s _your_ thing maybe.”

Jongdae decides antagonizing Kyungsoo is best left for later when he can properly defend himself. After redressing and heading downstairs - _”your bed smells as bad as you do”_ \- Kyungsoo allows Jongdae to lay on his couch. Kyungsoo looks adorable in Jongdae’s sweater, refusing to put on pants because Jongdae keeps the temperature too warm in his house. Kyungsoo’s always done better in the cold and Jongdae isn’t averse to watching his best friend walk around semi-naked because he looks adorable and cuddly even if he generally causes bodily harm if anyone mentions it aloud.

“What’s this?” Kyungsoo asks, picking up the bag Joonmyun had left.

Jongdae shrugs, far more interested in getting his toes covered than any home remedies Joonmyun may have brought.

“Oh.”

Jongdae looks over as Kyungsoo holds up a small packet of pregnancy tests. If Jongdae had been standing, he would have needed to take a seat.

“You don’t think . . ?”

Jongdae has never felt his bladder shrivel up into a dried husk so fast in his life. Anxiety floods his system, a sudden nausea kicking in full force that has him gripping tight to his sweater, staring at Kyungsoo in wide-eyed fear. “I need some water,” Jongdae croaks, finally sitting up despite his dizziness.

Kyungsoo clucks his tongue. “ _One_ small glass of water. You know flooding your system so you have to pee will thin the hormones too much to give an accurate reading.”

Jongdae hates that Kyungsoo is so level-headed about this. He also hates that he’s right and concedes to just enough water to wet his mouth and kick start his body into working again after that shock. He thinks about Joonmyun’s symptoms when he was newly pregnant - the constant nausea and lightheadedness - and it’s not the same as Jongdae’s. He wonders if there’s ever been anyone with chronic sleepiness from being pregnant.

It’s not easy trying to keep his mind off it, all attempts at _not_ thinking about having to pee failing as Jongdae chews relentlessly on his lower lip while Kyungsoo talks to him. “And you’re not paying attention,” Kyungsoo sighs, fingers sweeping through Jongdae’s hair. Jongdae makes a soft whining noise, choosing to lay with his head on Kyungsoo’s lap, relaxing into his touch even if he’s still so wound up. It takes a while for Jongdae to calm himself, suddenly awake from adrenaline even if his limbs still feel heavy, head cluttered and uneasy.

What if this is it?

They’ve been trying for a baby for so long he’s begun to wonder if it will ever happen. It’s been such an unattainable thing that he’s kept it at a distance, and the idea it’s finally happened makes him nervous, afraid to be hopeful but it still pushes at him, tears stinging his eyes at the thought of a life inside him.

Jongdae almost doesn’t believe it when he feels the pressure in his bladder, the urge to use the bathroom. He waits, lets it build until he’s certain it’s real and he’s not psyching himself out. He peels himself out of Kyungsoo’s hold, letting out a deep breath as he stares at the box on the table.

“You want me to go with you?” Kyungsoo asks, fingers caressing gently up and down Jongdae’s back.

Jongdae shakes his head, standing slowly. “I’ll be back.”

It’s a standard test kit with a one monitor and five test strips. All Jongdae needs to do is pee on the absorbent side of the strip and slide it into the monitor, letting it sit long enough for the red light to switch to green, the results available on the display. His hands are shaky and he washes them twice as he waits, keeping his eyes purposefully off the test and on the counter. He can’t even look at his reflection, too afraid.

A soft beep echoes in the bathroom and Jongdae steels himself, heart in his throat as he takes in a deep, shuddering breath. Air freezes in his lungs, eyes blinking to clear his vision as he reads the _positive_ bright and unmistakable on the display. A sob bubbles in his chest, pushing up until he claps a hand over his mouth to keep it down.

Everything is spinning, emotions too strong to handle and when Jongdae opens the door to the bathroom, he falls into Kyungsoo’s arms, laughing and crying at the same time. They end up on the floor in a pile, Jongdae shaking and Kyungsoo trying to calm him down, soothing words dripping into his ears as he rocks Jongdae comfortingly.

That bundle of fear, the corrosive thoughts of how he’s not good enough, how he is letting everyone down, is beginning to melt, filling Jongdae with a peace he hasn’t felt in a long time. He lets Kyungsoo move him from the floor and to the couch, wiping the tears from Jongdae’s cheeks with a bright, proud smile.

“Congratulations,” Kyungsoo says, “You’re now playing host to the parasitic spawn of one Lu Han.”

Jongdae hiccups a laugh, slapping Kyungsoo lightly on the arm. “I don’t even care that it’s his.”

“When does he get home? Do you want me to be here?”

Jongdae is staring down at his covered belly, humming thoughtfully. “I’ll be fine on my own, but could you cook something for me first?” he asks, giving Kyungsoo a coy look.

Kyungsoo sighs and shakes his head. “I knew you were going to take advantage of me.” But he gets up anyway, hobbling to the kitchen while muttering that his leg is asleep and it’s all Jongdae’s fault, that everything is Jongdae’s fault.

At least they don’t have to awkwardly handle any questions from Han about Kyungsoo walking around in Jongdae’s sweater and no pants because Kyungsoo whips up something quick and light and then leaves, promising not to say a word to anyone. This is one announcement Jongdae wants to make on his own.

He’s jittery, nervous and still incredibly tired. Jongdae ends up laying his head on the table in the dining room and unintentionally falling asleep as he waits, his belly full and body drained. He can’t be too upset about the constant grogginess if it’s because there’s a tiny, newly formed life inside of him. Of course he needs to go see an actual doctor and not just accept the results of a test, but the odds of a false positive are astronomical.

Jongdae wakes with Han’s arms around his torso, lifting him off his chair. “You’re going to hurt yourself sleeping like this,” Han says softly, his breath fanning hot across Jongdae’s neck. He makes a low groan of protest, his weight dropping, but Han has no problem keeping him up, maneuvering him out of the dining room.

“Wait,” Jongdae mumbles, trying to twist around in Han’s arms. It sends them both off balance, teetering too far forward and Han pulls Jongdae in, drawing him to his chest and spinning. When they land on the floor, it’s Han who takes the brunt of the weight, holding Jongdae carefully, tightly. “That was uncharacteristically heroic,” Jongdae grunts.

“You’re starting to grow on me,” Han uses as an excuse, brushing the hair out of Jongdae’s face.

Jongdae honest to goodness _blushes_ and it only gets worse when he feels the heat filling his cheeks and spreading. He has to admit, begrudgingly, that from this angle, Han is really . . . ugly. Jongdae snorts in amusement and picks himself up, sitting on Han’s thighs comfortably.

Han lifts to his elbows, tilting his head. “You’re welcome,” he grumbles, clearly unimpressed with Jongdae’s reaction.

Jongdae yawns, stretching his arms over his head and Han sits up the rest of the way, arms around Jongdae’s waist. It’s a little startling when he opens his eyes to find Han’s face _right there_.

“Are you feeling any better?” Han asks, concern in his voice that makes Jongdae’s heart skip the next beat.

It has to be the hormones. He hears people can feel and do crazy things because of pregnancy hormones. “Yes and no,” Jongdae answers cryptically, earning himself a frown.

“Maybe we should take you to the doctor.”

“You might want to be careful. You’re starting to sound like you care.”

Han runs a palm up Jongdae’s spine, settling it on the back of his neck to reel him in for a kiss that Jongdae is _not_ expecting. He gasps, melting against Han easily.

It’s definitely the hormones.

This is most certainly not the first time Jongdae has made out with his husband on the floor like a couple of aggressive teenagers with too little inhibition and a cocktail of emotions that are inevitably going to take control. But Jongdae really has something he needs to tell Han before one of them ends up with a dick up his ass. And with every kiss, every heated touch of Han’s hands under his sweater, Jongdae is finding it harder and harder to pull away.

“Wait,” he whispers, trying to move away when Han draws him in for another kiss. His teeth sink into the plush swell of Han’s lower lip, skimming over the flesh until he lets it go with a groan. Every part of him is ready to have sex right now and he can feel Han’s dick under him, just as eager, which makes this all the more difficult. “Please, just wait a minute.”

Han lets out a noise of frustration, but he stops, breathing heavily and his eyes dark, focused on Jongdae. His thumb is rubbing along the hairline on the back of Jongdae’s neck and he leans toward the touch, eyes slipping closed for a brief moment. Han is getting very good at learning him and he curls his fingers in Han’s shirt.

“I need to tell you,” he starts, licking his lips and drawing Han’s attention down to them, “that we did it.”

Han’s eyes flicker back up, a quirk of his head giving away his confusion. “What did we do?”

“What have we been doing since we were forced to marry?” Jongdae teases, refusing to give in so easily.

“Drive each other crazy?”

Jongdae tugs on a strand on Han’s hair and Han gives a cry of pain, cutting a dirty look at Jongdae. “Try again.”

Han sighs, clearly not enjoying the game and he moves his hips to remind Jongdae that he’s still very much interested in sex and not this conversation. Jongdae rolls his eyes, pushing at Han’s chest until he falls back to the floor. He slaps his hands on Han’s shoulders, leaning over his startled husband. “I know it’s tough for you to think when your dick is in charge, so I’m going to give you a hint.”

Jongdae takes the hand Han has on his hip and drags it under his sweater, letting it rest low on his stomach. He taps on the back of Han’s hand with his fingers, raising his eyebrows expectantly. It’s a beautiful thing being able to watch the realization dawning across Han’s face, his eyes growing and mouth dropping open as he pushes on Jongdae’s stomach lightly. Jongdae grins down at him, unable to help himself.

The smile that spreads on Han’s face is ridiculous and Jongdae has a vivid picture of the future in his head, a happy future. He dips to kiss Han, revel in the comfort of his arms. “Now we can pick up where we left off,” Jongdae whispers.

Jongdae is disappointed enough to pout when Han, instead of letting Jongdae ride him on the floor, picks him up and stands. He’s prepared to sulk on the couch after Han disappears up the stairs, the ache in his groin strong enough to have him pressing the heel of his palm to it and groaning at the friction it brings. His eyes fall closed, head tipped back when he slides his hand into his pants, ready to take care of himself since his husband seems to have lost his desire.

“Why are you so impatient?” Han laughs.

It startles Jongdae and he jumps, gasping when he feels Han pulling at the ends of his pants until they’re off. Jongdae looks at Han, happily surprised he’s already naked and working to get Jongdae’s shirt off before sitting on the couch and guiding Jongdae onto his lap. “This is better,” Jongdae whimpers, arms around Han’s neck as he rocks on his lap.

Han tells Jongdae how much of a pain he is even as he slides slick fingers into Jongdae’s ass slowly, spreading and stretching him open. Jongdae keeps kissing him, mumbling about how good it feels as his hips rock down. It steals his breath when Han’s cock pushes into him, hot and filling as Jongdae clenches around him. His head falls to Han’s shoulder, letting Han’s grip on his thighs move him carefully.

“Is this okay?” Han asks and Jongdae nods, moaning loud at how Han’s cock shifts inside him.

It’s not hurried, but rather a slow burn that flares from where they’re connected and outward to flood his senses. Han presses their foreheads together, watching intently as Jongdae falls apart. He shudders, gasps and moans out Han’s name as he’s fucked slow and sensual on their couch. There’s a tenderness Jongdae isn’t used to and he takes it in willingly, hoping Han knows just how much it’s driving him crazy with want.

It’s a drawn out end, Han with his hands on Jongdae’s hips to move him up and down even as he comes, muffling his cries in Han’s shoulder as he tenses and lets it rattle through him. Jongdae clings to him, keeps going even after until he feels Han throbbing inside him, head tipping back with a groan.

“I’m so tired,” Jongdae laughs against Han’s chest and Han laughs with him, fingers sifting gently through Jongdae’s hair.

“Then let’s get you in bed.”

It’s silly how a little attention from Han has him feeling giddy, pleased with himself and he makes a mental note to research more on the effects of pregnancy hormones because this is getting ridiculous. Han puts Jongdae in a hot bath - he neglects to inform Han he had a shower earlier because he’s basking in the attention - and changes the sheets and blankets on their bed as Jongdae nearly falls asleep in the water.

He gets tucked in even if it’s far too early for bed, but he’s already exhausted again and he’s starting to really not like this part.

“Have you called for a confirmation appointment?” Han asks, perched on the side of the bed.

Jongdae shakes his head. “I got sidetracked,” he admits. “I can make one in the morning.”

“I’ll take care of it. We can go together.”

Han makes to get up and Jongdae reaches for his hand. “Thank you,” he says, squeezing Han’s fingers in his own.

Han gives him a sad, small smile. “You’re welcome.”

 

Jongdae doesn’t feel so helpless inside the white room this time, Han holding his hand at his side, laying on the examination table. They have a female doctor instead of the dreary old man, one with a much friendlier demeanor and she’s gentle when she pushes on his abdomen, feeling out his uterus. It had taken only a moment to verify his pregnancy with a small prick of his finger and now he’s going through a brief first physical to ensure there are no early complications.

Doctor Jung is pleased to hear there’s no nausea, but she warns it could still happen and if it does, ginger and pressure points were the best route to go. It’s nothing Jongdae hasn’t heard before - all students in high school are required to take a pregnancy and child care class by their senior year - but it’s nice to have a refresher. The exciting part is when she pulls out the small sonogram to determine how far along Jongdae is.

Jongdae feels Han squeezing his hand when they get an upclose look at the tiny light spot nestled against the side of his uterus. “You look to be about three weeks along,” Doctor Jung announces with a smile. “So unless you have any concerns, we can schedule you to come back in a week to start you on regular appointments.”

Jongdae makes sure it’s Doctor Jung he’s coming back to see before scheduling, and Han asks for a small clip of the sonogram to be sent to his terminal. He doesn’t realize what Han has planned until they get home and he forwards the clip to both their families.

With his terminal lighting up with new messages, Han chooses to ignore it and lays down with Jongdae for a much needed nap. It’s a lot to take in, a lot to filter and Jongdae curls easily into Han’s arms, face to his chest to calm him before he finally falls asleep. It’s really too bad they don’t get to rest for long.

Jongdae regrets his parents having access to his home, especially when they’re barging in and making far more noise than Jongdae’s head can handle. He supposes he can deal with his dad’s tight hugs and Han’s mother petting down his back gently after they bring in enough cooked food to last for days. Jongdae’s tummy rumbles at the smell and he’s hauled to the table immediately when it’s loud enough to hear. He’d foregone breakfast because of nerves, but it’s catching up with him.

And because there aren’t enough people talking at him, trying to feed him even when his mouth is already full - Han standing to the side and grinning like an idiot - it’s only natural Joonmyun and Yifan show up with Jongin and Zitao on their heels. Introductions are made and every man with a baby growing inside him is forced into a chair to eat. In all the celebration, Joonmyun and their father seem to be getting past that awkward phase, their father easing into acceptance.

Han ends up beside Jongdae, holding his hand under the table and Jongdae clings to it like a lifeline, Han fielding most of the questions flying their way. Jongdae is so very thankful he doesn’t have to explain they haven’t thought of baby names or how Jongdae is going to attend the rest of his classes or if he’s going to continue next year or wait.

Jongdae leans over to where Joonmyun is sitting to his right. “Is it always like this?”

“Yes,” Joonmyun answers with a soft laugh. He ruffles Jongdae’s hair and pulls him into a one-armed hug. “I’m so happy for you,” he whispers and Jongdae feels his eyes welling with tears. “I know it’s been hard and I’m so proud of you.”

If the room wasn’t full of people, Jongdae would be bawling like a baby. As it is, he discreetly wipes his eyes on Joonmyun’s shirt and allows Han’s mother to take Han’s place beside him, smiling so prettily it makes his heart ache. “Thank you,” she says brightly and draws Jongdae into a hug that has him furiously blinking back a fresh wave of tears. This just isn’t his day; everything makes him want to cry.

Jongdae was never one for mushy emotional moments and yet he can’t complain when everyone around him is smiling, talking animatedly about the future. He feels part of it for once, not just a bystander sitting on the sidelines waiting for his turn to shine. This is him, this is his, and his cheeks are sore from how much he’s been smiling, meeting Han’s eyes from across the room.

By the time everyone is ushered out the door and to their own homes, Jongdae slumping into every hug tiredly, he’s too fuzzy and warm to be anything other than elated. He hooks his fingers in Han’s belt loops and drags him forward, still grinning as he kisses his husband. “That was nice,” he murmurs.

“Yeah,” Han sighs, pushing Jongdae more securely to the wall so he doesn’t slide down. “I think we have enough food for a week.”

Jongdae chuckles. “That’s nice too, but I meant this.” And he kisses Han again, slow and sweet.

“You are _so_ tired,” Han laughs. “Punch drunk tired.”

“I think you might be right,” Jongdae whispers conspiratorially.

“Alright, up we go.” Han hefts Jongdae’s weight and carries him up the stairs. “Time for bed.”

 

Jongdae basks in the glow of all he’s accomplished until he wakes the next morning with a cold spot on the bed beside him and silence settling heavy in his ears. It’s almost like a punch in the gut the way his mood changes from satisfied to panicked, happiness to worry. He’d never given thought to the consequences of a pregnancy. There’s no reason for Han to be bound to him now, no further inclination to take care of him in their pretended bubble of domestic bliss.

Jongdae barely makes it to the toilet before he throws up, shuddering and shaking as he spits the remnants of last night’s meal into the basin. He furiously brushes the taste out of his mouth after. It's the anxiety that keeps him huddled in their bathroom, head pillowed on his arms and jaw tingling with the promise of a repeat performance. Here he'd been lulled into a false sense of security at the prospect of having a baby without giving voice to the reasoning behind it. This isn't a partnership built on love and trust, but a forced marriage wobbling on the unsteady foundation of necessity and procreation alone. Han doesn't care for Jongdae.

And Jongdae feels worse when he realizes he's managed to get himself tangled in a web of emotions, part of which is affection for his husband. And he has to question how much of Han's actions as of late have been genuine and how many were done simply to keep the peace until one of them ended up pregnant. He's terrified of the answer and it balloons in his chest, expands until his ribs threaten to crack and break.

"I can't leave you alone for a moment," Han sighs from the doorway.

Jongdae whimpers when he's lifted carefully from the floor, scared to chase the warmth Han's hold brings as he's walked to their bed. Part of him wants to demand if Han's only bothering to take care of him because of the baby. The other, stronger, part keeps his tongue still because he's not ready to know. It's bad enough he's convinced himself this is real; he doesn't need it thrown in his face.

He curls up around Han's pillow without thinking, pushing his face into it and squeezing his eyes closed to keep the tears at bay. At this rate he's not going to survive this without a hormone induced breakdown.

Han leaves long enough to wet a rag with cool water, pushing at Jongdae's shoulder until he rolls so Han can press it to his forehead. "Better?"

There's concern in his voice, written in the wrinkled lines of his scrunched forehead and Jongdae groans, clutching his stomach. "It's a good thing we got a full meal in you last night," Han states, sweeping the damp, sweaty strands of Jongdae's hair out of his face. "I'll put on some water for tea and use the holobands for class."

"You don't have to," Jongdae says weakly, reaching out for Han's hand before thinking better of it and letting his own drop to the mattress.

"What kind of husband and father would I be if I left you alone right now?" he jests, an easy smile on his face that slams hard into Jongdae's already cracking self control. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

The reminder on Jongdae's terminal goes off after Han disappears down stairs and Jongdae pulls it from the nightstand, swiping to see their appointment with Minseok is tomorrow. Jongdae momentarily thinks about cancelling, but the churning in his stomach reminds him that he _really_ needs to talk with someone who isn't Han and is well-versed in handling a situation like this.

Jongdae wrestles with the need to crawl back to the toilet until Han brings him a cup of ginger tea. He piles the pillows up for Jongdae to lean against and sits on the edge of the bed, watching as Jongdae takes a few small, test sips. It coats his burning throat, warms him from the inside out and Jongdae relaxes into the soft mass under him.

"Better?" Han inquires.

"Yes, thank you."

"Good." He stands and nods toward Jongdae's terminal. "I'll be downstairs for class. Message me if you need anything."

_I need to know how you really feel about me_ , Jongdae thinks, but settles for humming as Han leaves him alone.

Now he doesn’t know if he feels so physically ill because he’s pregnant or because reality is catching up to him at a brisk pace. He likens it to smashing his face into a metal wall and staring into his distorted reflection after. Things had been blossoming and he’d dared to reach too far.

The tea is gone and his stomach is settled and Jongdae is just beginning to drift off to sleep when a weight dips the mattress behind him. He’s too out of it to resist when he feels a chest pushed to his back and he sighs, satisfied.

“How’s your stomach?”

Jongdae takes a moment to process the voice and then the words because neither belong to Han. He twists, his forehead furrowed as he sees Kyungsoo blinking into clarity behind him. “What are you doing here?” he mumbles, or at least sort of mumbles, but he’s still groggy and it all comes out in a slur of syllables.

“Han called me and said you were having a tough morning.”

Jongdae rolls to bury his face in Kyungsoo’s chest, leg across Kyungsoo’s legs as an answer. He eventually falls asleep to Kyungsoo’s fingers sifting through his hair and a mental note to thank Han later.

 

Minseok’s office has become something of a safe haven to Jongdae. Han is at his side, the backs of their hands brushing as they walk into the room and take their usual seats. After the first few visits, Minseok had taken the two chairs side-by-side and placed them facing each other so Jongdae and Han could speak freely with him right there to moderate. Somehow, today, it seems as if there is a chasm separating him and Han. And he’s the only one who can see it.

Minseok appears to be his usual jovial self, eyes bright and smile brighter. It’s infectious and Jongdae can’t help smiling back during the usual pleasantries.

“So how have things been?” Minseok begins, eyes darting between the two expectantly.

Han gestures to Jongdae, posture relaxed and a pleased look teasing the corners of his mouth. Jongdae’s eyes linger, trying to read him before Minseok’s clears his throat.

“Eventful,” Jongdae begins with a laugh. “I’m pregnant.”

Minseok’s eyebrows raise, but he gives no other indication of reaction. “And how do you feel about this?”

“Tired,” Jongdae responds without hesitation, slumping in his seat. When his legs slide out, the tips of his shoes hit against Han’s and Han pushes playfully against him.

“Emotionally?”

Jongdae pulls his eyes off their feet. “Well I’m happy, of course. This is what we’ve been trying for.”

“And it fulfills the verbal contract made with both your parents,” Minseok tacks on.

There’s an ugly churning in Jongdae’s stomach and he resolutely doesn’t look at Han.

“The question I pose is this,” Minseok continues, crossing his legs and setting his terminal aside, hands folded in his lap. “Is this marriage something the two of you are still interested in pursuing or is it merely a formality now that you’ve reached your goal?”

Subconsciously, Jongdae’s hand finds its way to his stomach, pressure from his fingers just hard enough to feel it through his shirt. His other hand rests on the arm of the chair, fingers curling around the metal because he’s so sure that Han is going to want nothing to do with him anymore.

The silence in the room is deafening and he just wishes someone would _say_ something.

It’s Han who speaks first. “I thought we would talk about that after the baby was born. Stress isn’t good for a pregnancy and Jongdae is going to need my support.”

Well . . . that answer wasn’t as soul-crushing as Jongdae had feared it would be and yet it was so politically correct he wants to spit through his teeth. He takes in a calming breath and lets it out slowly.

“And you?” Minseok queries.

Jongdae finds himself faced with two people staring at him - one with that unemotional, detached look and the other far too curious for his liking. Wow, this couldn’t be any more uncomfortable, but if he’s going to get answers, now is the time to ask for them.

“Actually, I think it would be best to lay things out now so we know where we stand.”

“So where do _you_ stand?” Han asks, leaning forward in his chair, their shoes still connected.

Jongdae is nervous, fucking terrified if he’s honest with himself and this right here could make or break everything they’ve been through. It’s been an uphill battle since the day they met and even through all the shit and the fights and petty arguments, Jongdae genuinely _feels_ something for Han. He looks directly at Han when he answers. “I want us to work. I _know_ we can work if we both put in the effort.”

Han is worrying his lip, fingers clasped tightly with his elbows resting on his knees.

“But if you don’t want to,” Jongdae says, bile rising in the back of his throat, “then I won’t push it. I’ll let you do as you like.”

“Han?” Minseok asks, directing the conversation.

“I just - “ Han’s head falls, both hands running through his hair. His leg is bouncing, and he pulls them back from the middle, almost as if he’s curling in on himself for protection. “All this time,” he starts, peering up at Jongdae, “you’ve been so clear in your intentions for one of us to get pregnant, constantly reminding me we have an obligation to fulfill, a responsibility. Yes, we’ve been . . . _acting_ more like a couple recently, but I’ve never been sure if it’s _me_ you like or if it’s just a way to make things bearable until you’re free to go.”

Jongdae’s heart plods pathetically. Han is right. And he never realized that’s what he’d been doing which makes him feel like a complete jackass. “I didn’t - I mean, yes, originally, that’s what it was about but . . . “

“But . . . ?” Minseok coaches. Jongdae’s starting to get really pissed at Minseok’s hands off approach.

Jongdae is good at feeling things. He’s good at knowing how he feels, when he feels and the depth of his emotions. It’s just getting them out of his mouth that’s the occasional problem. This attention oriented on him, the way Han is waiting for him to say something has every word in his vocabulary drying up.

“Do you want _me_ or the _idea_ of being together?” Han asks.

It should probably be worrisome at how little he has to think about that question. “You,” he gets out in a breathy rush, his stomach coiled into a tight knot because any moment now Han is going to tell him it’s not worth it, that this farce ends now. What he’s _not_ prepared for is the relieved laugh that Han lets out, wiping his face with his hands before falling back in his seat.

Minseok appears positively amused, which is something Jongdae would notice if he wasn’t too busy wondering if it would be appropriate to launch himself at Han if nothing more than to shut his mouth. He honestly looks like his jaw is going to fall off and it’s the most unattractive thing and Jongdae _still_ wants to kiss him.

“What about you, Han?” Minseok prompts. “We never got a direct answer from you.”

Han stretches his legs back out, knocking the tips of their shoes together. “I want to try _us_.”

 

Usually the two of them walk to their appointments with Minseok, but with the colder weather and Jongdae's current condition, they've taken Joonmyun's car. Jongdae knows they definitely need to get one of their own now that they're expecting, and he'll bring it up to his parents soon because even with both his and Han's student stipend, they can't afford one. 

But for now, he's content with the heat coming to life inside the small vehicle even if the way it lurches off the ground makes his stomach wobble. Han is behind the controls and Jongdae grabs the ends of Han's scarf, pulling him in his direction before they move. Han is smiling when Jongdae kisses him, unable to wait until they get home. His heart feels like it's going to burst and Han holds him together with chilled fingers on his neck, cool lips warming against his own.

"Let's go home."

"We have to take the car back to Joonmyun," Jongdae reminds him and watches the displeasure wash over Han's face.

"I'll take it back later. Right now, home."

Jongdae doesn't argue, staring out the window as they drive with an idiotic grin on his face that just won't go away. It doesn't take long and Jongdae doesn't bother to wrap the scarf back around his neck and face before racing to the front door. Han is crowding behind him, arms around Jongdae's waist to gently push him forward and inside.

The uncertainty that used to cling to Jongdae's actions and thoughts dissipates with Han's kisses, the strength of his hands, his arms, his legs as he lifts Jongdae from the floor. Jongdae startles, arms around Han's neck and legs locking around his waist with a laugh as Han gazes up at him. There's a smile on Han's face - _The Smile_ , the one Jongdae has seen given freely to so many people and never him. It makes his eyes water and he blames it on the hormones and not the way it has his heart beating wildly and his head going fuzzy as Han carries him up the stairs.

This is new territory. This isn't a means to an end or letting off steam. This is Han driving Jongdae absolutely crazy with his maddenly soft caresses and the careful way he peels every article of clothing off them both. This is Jongdae surrendering all of himself to his husband as they lay in the middle of their bed, kissing and touching and acting like a couple of lovestruck fools.

This is Jongdae gripping the sheets beside his head with a gasp as Han leaves kisses down his chest, hands holding his hips to the mattress as he teases Jongdae's nipples with his teeth and tongue before moving lower. There's a mischievous spark to Han's eyes when he nips just beneath Jongdae's belly button and Jongdae's cock kicks, hitting against Han's chin. He's been hard since before his pants came off and Jongdae is impatient, but it's tempered with curiosity.

Jongdae has had the pleasure - and displeasure - of seeing Han in a lot of ways, but he doesn't think any of them will ever top how he looks with his pink lips stretched around the width of Jongdae's cock, sucking down the crown and sinking lower. It takes all Jongdae has not to thrust into his mouth, fingers twisting further in the sheets and teeth embedded in his lower lip to control himself as Han stares up at him through his bangs, eyes dark and lips shining with spit and precome.

Jongdae is so fucked.

He releases one hand to frantically pull at Han's hair, whimpering and stuttering out moans as Han's head bobs, his tongue pushing hot and hard and wet against the length of Jongdae's cock. He tries to guide Han’s head, but Han grips him tight by the thighs and spreads them further, swallowing around his cock as Jongdae’s spine bends off the bed. “Fuck,” Jongdae breathes, his limbs locked and body teetering on the edge.

Han pulls off suddenly and Jongdae sinks to the mattress with a groan, glaring down at where Han is busy licking over his red lips. Jongdae’s near orgasm recedes, but it’s hard to care when Han is pressing Jongdae’s thighs up, his head dipping lower. All the air in his lungs freezes, jaw slack and eyes rolling back as the flat of Han’s tongue pushes against Jongdae’s rim. He moans loud, unabashedly as Han licks, spit running down Jongdae’s crack as Han’s tongue gently presses inside him. 

His legs want to lock around Han's face, keep him trapped as he rocks down on his tongue until he comes, but Han holds him still, moaning as he works Jongdae open one soft push at a time. His cock is leaking over his stomach, there's sweat beading along his brow and Jongdae just wants Han inside him. Now.

Jongdae thinks he might just come all over himself when he feels two slick fingers slide in alongside Han's tongue, stretching him wider. He rocks as best he can, his chest tight and thighs shaking and his patience worn thin.

Han takes Jongdae to the brink again before stopping, unfolding Jongdae's legs carefully before fitting his body between them. Jongdae thinks he might be crying when Han's cock finally fills him, Han's mouth attached to his neck. He clutches tight to Han's back, sighing in satisfaction at the slow roll of Han's hips, the dull bursts of pleasure radiating through him like the calm before a storm.

Jongdae wraps around him as Han thrusts into his pliant, willing body in a languid rhythm. It’s a slow burn that takes him from the inside out, consuming Jongdae until he’s shuddering, muffling his moans in Han’s mouth as he comes. It feels like it lasts forever, each pulse echoing in his limbs and drawing back to his gut to settle. Han nips at his lips, pants out Jongdae’s name and speeds his movements, chasing his own climax.

Jongdae clenches around him, nails scratching through Han’s hair and down his neck. Han jerks forward as he comes, cock throbbing and filling Jongdae before he stills. Jongdae doesn’t let go of him, feeling awfully affectionate and needy. This is the part where they usually separate or at least roll away to clean up, but Han lowers himself and nuzzles against Jongdae’s neck with a small hum.

It’s nice, comforting and Jongdae finds himself dangerously close to falling asleep while tangled with Han on their dirty sheets. Han shifts, hands running up Jongdae’s arms to slot their fingers together.

“Do you really think we can make this work?” Han asks, his mouth brushing the skin of Jongdae’s neck, his breath fanning cool over his drying sweat.

Jongdae sighs thoughtfully. “Yes,” he answers after a moment. “If we try.”

Han raises over him just enough to peer into Jongdae’s face. “And what about when I inevitably piss you off?” he teases with a smile.

“Then I’ll just have to withhold sex.”

Han’s eyes grow comically wide. “You wouldn’t!”

Jongdae grins. “Wouldn’t I?”

Han attempts to pout his way to a new answer, but Jongdae is unyielding even after Han cleans him and drags them both downstairs to eat. Han’s sweater is large on Jongdae’s frame and he enjoys it, sleeves over his fingers as Han warms up leftovers in the oven. Jongdae is relaxed, elbow propped on the bar and his head in his hand as he watches.

Han turns and seems surprised at the attention, lips drawing up on one side for a lopsided smile. “What?”

Jongdae shakes his head. “Nothing.”

“Something.”

“Just -” Jongdae shrugs with one shoulder. “Content. Sleepy.” His stomach gurgles. “Hungry.”

“Patience,” Han says, tweaking Jongdae’s nose when he gets to him. “We should talk though.”

“About what?” As far as Jongdae is concerned, they got all the important parts out in the open when they were in Minseok’s office.

“That get-together thing Minseok mentioned.”

Oh.

“Oh,” Jongdae exhales. “Right, we should plan that or something.”

Han frowns. “Are you sure? Because we don’t have to.”

“I’m sure,” Jongdae states even if he’s not as confident as he sounds. When Minseok brought up the idea of them inviting Sehun - and other people to create a comfort barrier - to their home to aid in the process of healing, it _sounded_ like a good, solid plan. Only now that Jongdae isn’t swept up in a tidal wave of new emotions, the idea of meeting Sehun, officially, makes him uneasy. This is Han’s best friend, the one he found Han fucking in their bed and learned they’d been doing it regularly. Jongdae has so many insecurities when it comes to Sehun that he’s not sure he ever wants to face him.

But he needs to. If he wants to move past this, forgive and heal old wounds, he needs to do it head on and sooner rather than later. Letting things fester in a half-done state will do nothing but create more problems later.

“This Saturday then?” Han suggests. “I can invite Sehun for lunch and you can invite Kyungsoo.”

Ah, Kyungsoo - Jongdae’s structural support. “Yes, and I’ll convince Joonmyun to bring food because he’s been on a binge lately. Between him and Zitao, it’s a wonder there’s any food left in the market.”

The oven timer goes off and Han goes to take the dish out as Jongdae flops to the countertop. Saturday.

 

Kyungsoo shows up early and Jongdae is mostly in a state of undress, whining about having to put on clothes in his own home as Han tries to coax him into a pair of pants.

“Aren’t you usually freezing?” Kyungsoo asks, unimpressed at the show of skin.

“Yes, but right now I’m hot and sweaty and gross,” Jongdae complains, earning a narrow-eyed look of impatience from Han who’s been dealing with this all morning.

“I dodged a bullet when I dumped you,” Kyungsoo laughs as he walks past the two men wrestling on the couch to deposit his bags on the counter.

“YOU DID NOT DUMP ME!” Jongdae yells after him, yelping when Han bites down on his neck as a distraction to get his pants up over his thighs. “It was mutual,” he grumbles to himself, looping arms around Han’s neck. “And that was mean.”

Han drops a kiss on Jongdae’s mouth and stands with Jongdae still attached to him. “You deserved it, now let go so I can go change.”

Jongdae’s gaze drops to the cloth pants settled low on Han’s hips, mostly held up by his dick because he’s the narrowest man alive, and licks his lips. “But I like these.”

Kyungsoo chooses to walk in and finds Jongdae’s face millimeters from Han’s crotch. “I didn’t sign up for an orgy, but if that’s where this is headed, Han’s dick isn’t going near my ass.”

Han’s head whips around. “I can’t tell if you’re serious or not.”

Jongdae laughs as he pushes Han away and stands. “He’s always serious.” He brushes past Han to get to his friend, fully dressed and feeling itchy about it, to see what he brought. It’s been a few days since he’s seen Kyungsoo’s face seeing as he’s been relying on the holobands to attend his classes. He can’t imagine having the energy not to sleep through them if he actually made the trek to campus.

“What did you bring?” Jongdae asks, snooping with his nose in one of the bags. Whatever it is smells delicious, but Jongdae gets smacked away, following Kyungsoo further into the kitchen with an injured pout.

Yifan had stopped by earlier - eyes affixed away from Jongdae’s half naked state - with scrumptious looking sandwiches Joonmyun made earlier that morning. It’s getting more difficult for Joonmyun to maneuver and he keeps indoors mostly now, sending Yifan out on errands when he’s home from work.

Jongdae had busied himself making a fruit salad and it sits in the refrigerator to chill next to the wrapped sandwiches, waiting for their final guest. It doesn’t make Jongdae nervous, but somehow he ends up jittery anyway as Kyungsoo tries his very best not to glare at Han. Jongdae had informed Kyungsoo that he and Han were going to try, and Kyungsoo had grumbled before declaring it wasn’t surprising and that they must have rubbed off enough on each other with all the sex. It’s really quite amusing the way Kyungsoo’s mouth twists with distaste and then fades into a thin line when Han attempts to make small talk.

“He’s going to skewer my hand with a serving fork,” Han whispers through his teeth and into Jongdae’s ear. 

Jongdae laughs and ruffles his hair affectionately. “Not if you’re nice to me.”

Sehun arrives on time, looking every bit as sheepish as the situation calls for when he toes off his shoes and walks in. Jongdae walks up to him, taking in the lean frame of his tall body, the fullness of his small pink lips and the beauty of his entire face. He looks as if a strong wind could blow him away but also like a breaker in a storm to hold to. It’s confusing and attractive and Jongdae smiles if only because he at least needs to convince _himself_ he’s unaffected.

“Hello,” he greets and Sehun stares down at him, wide-eyed like Jongdae is about to lunge at him. “We never got a chance to properly meet. I’m Jongdae.”

“Sehun,” he answers promptly, fidgeting. “Thank you for having me over even after . . . you know.”

He looks so young and innocent - even if Jongdae’s seen him _naked_ \- and he seems so sincere. Jongdae melts under his gaze and sighs, giving Sehun a genuine smile this time. “It was a rough time for all of us,” he says with a small shrug. “It’s time to move on.”

Sehun brightens, relieved and Jongdae sees the appeal. Han comes over a moment later, taking Sehun by the arm to leave Jongdae alone so he can set up the food.

Jongdae is ambushed as soon as he steps foot in the kitchen.

“That’s Sehun?” Kyungsoo whispers conspiratorially, head peeking around the doorway to where Sehun and Han are sitting on the couch.

Jongdae narrows his eyes. “Yes,” he replies, stretching out the word in a question.

“ _The_ Sehun?”

“What other Sehuns do we know?”

Kyungsoo is worrying his bottom lip, eyes fixated on Sehun.

“Why?”

“You didn’t tell me he was _hot_ ,” Kyungsoo practically squeaks, bouncing back on his heels to stare at Jongdae.

“I was too busy being _pissed_ he was fucking my _husband_ in _my_ bed at the time. I’m sorry I didn’t snap a picture for you.”

“I am too,” Kyungsoo breathes out before seeming to realize that it _was_ aloud. “Not that I’m interested in seeing Han naked, but Sehun. . . “ Kyungsoo whistles low. “Fuck, I should have worn something nicer.”

“Oh no,” Jongdae chokes. “Please be kidding.”

“Is he single?”

“I don’t know!” Jongdae exclaims, exasperated and a little worried at Kyungsoo’s obvious interest. “Why don’t you ask him?”

“I will,” Kyungsoo resolves, running his hands over his hair - which was already perfectly fine - before walking out and toward the pair.

Jongdae is pleased to see how Han hesitates around Kyungsoo, Jongdae now perched with a clear view to see where it leads. It’s more amusing than anything, Kyungsoo’s face darkening when he eyes Han up and down, and then brightening with a smile when he’s introduced to Sehun. It isn’t long before Han is slinking warily away from the pair to stand at Jongdae’s side.

“Is he _flirting_?” Han asks when Kyungsoo laughs, tilting forward toward Sehun as he does.

Jongdae grins. “Yep.”

A visible shudder zips through Han and Jongdae runs a hand up and down his back in comfort. It could be worse. Kyungsoo could hate Sehun as much as he hates Han. And his attention is diverted from the pair when Han lists against him, cheek pressed to Jongdae’s head and an arm snaking around his waist to hold. “This was a good idea,” Han breathes.

Jongdae is inclined to agree.

 

Jongdae’s first official doctor’s visit is underwhelming. He’d psyched himself out, imagining all the tests they’d have to run, the rundown of medical history from both sides of the family, and the poking and prodding. But Doctor Jung had already gone through the background files and the only poking was a drop of blood taken from the tip of his left index finger.

When Jongdae professes his surprise, Doctor Jung smiles at him.

“We can’t do every test at once this early in the pregnancy. There will be several more down the line, but not all of them require a needle.”

That’s good to hear. “And what about sleep? Is it possible to sleep too much?” he inquires.

“Not as long as you’re eating well. It’s not uncommon to lose weight in the first few months, but you don’t seem to have problems with morning sickness so I don’t see why you can’t keep healthy. Just make sure you eat the right foods.”

“What about cravings?”

“You won’t have any of those for a good little while,” she laughs. “But when you do, it’s best to listen. I once had a patient who was really sick all through his pregnancy and the only thing he ever craved was oranges and that’s the _only_ thing he could keep down.”

“They didn’t cover this in high school,” Jongdae complains.

“Every experience is unique. If they went into details about everything you might experience, it would be a four year course, not one.”

“Touché.”

Jongdae leaves feeling a little better and with an appointment set up for exactly four weeks from today. He’s intent on going home and taking a nap before having to worry about making dinner. He’s hit with sudden regret at insisting he would be fine on his own because now he has to walk home alone, without someone to lean on. It’s a good thing his brother never listens because Jongdae’s never been happier to see Yifan sitting outside the building, the car already warm.

 

There’s a documentary on the screen in the kitchen, a voice in the background narrating the migratory patterns of hummingbirds and Jongdae is sitting at the bar as the dinner he prepared bakes in the oven, bawling his eyes out. He has absolutely _no idea_ why he’s crying, but he can’t get himself to stop which only makes it worse. His eyes hurt and his nose is running and a disembodied voice pours through the speakers, explaining how the hummingbirds follow the flower population, and everything sucks.

Jongdae supposes it’s a step up from being unable to keep food down, although he has been far luckier than most on that front. It only hits once a week or so and that’s if Jongdae is too quick to get out of bed and doesn’t put something light on his stomach immediately after. The ginger wafers his dad left for him also work wonders and Jongdae pops one or two in his mouth every time his stomach feels off.

There’s not much for him to do at home now that he’s restricted to using the holobands for classes instead of physically attending. Jongdae meant to put up a fight when Han brought it up, but he’d been too tired and settled for mumbling his agreeance into a couch cushion as Han sighed at him, clearly amused because Jongdae had managed to kick his pants most of the way off, but they were still clinging around his ankles when he’d given up.

Sometimes it feels like there are tiny battles going on inside his head, all these emotions clamoring to claim victory over his mood and it leaves Jongdae unpredictable even to himself. A question from Han that earns him all of Jongdae’s attention and affection might result in a snappishly defensive answer if asked an hour later even if Jongdae is trying not to let his instability get the better of him.

He feels transparent, pulled too thin and sometimes he has to remind himself it isn’t real. This push and pull, the constant unsteadiness in his chest is all chemical. He pats low on his stomach, sighing as he slumps forward, forehead pressed to the cool countertop as the tears finally stop.

Han finds him that way when he gets home, Jongdae wiggling his toes and trying not to nod off. Han’s presence goes unnoticed until he’s behind Jongdae, winding arms around his waist to pull him upright. Jongdae gives a loud noise of protest before going limp against his husband, allowing Han to tip his face up by his chin and leave a kiss on his mouth. “If the hummingbirds are putting you to sleep, you just have to change the feed,” Han jests.

“Ha ha,” Jongdae responds weakly, content where he is with the heat of Han’s chest bleeding into his back.

“Come on,” Han urges, beginning to pull Jongdae from the stool. “You’re going to hurt your back bent like that. At least lay on the couch.”

Jongdae is a ragdoll, pliant and tired and a little fuzzy headed from Han being so sweet as he’s plucked from the stool and carried into the living room. Han lays him down and before he can leave, Jongdae grabs at him, pulling Han over him with a grin. It’s an odd balancing act for Han not to put any of his weight on Jongdae in his surprise, but Jongdae hooks a leg around his calf and brings him in more. Jongdae’s always been more of a closet cuddler - a strict Kyungsoo only policy for the longest time - but he decides Han has earned it, locking his arms over Han’s shoulder and wriggling to get comfortable.

“I’m trying not to squish you,” Han grunts, still trying to situate himself.

“You didn’t mind squishing me before,” Jongdae reminds him. “It won’t hurt us.”

Han is hesitant, but eventually concedes, his weight settling warm and comforting over Jongdae. “My very own Han blanket,” Jongdae coos, laughing as Han makes to get up. Jongdae tempts him with a kiss, soft and lingering, that has Han chasing him back down when he pulls away.

“Tease,” Han complains with a smile, dipping to kiss Jongdae again and again and again.

There’s an acceptance that comes with every kiss, every brush of Han’s hands, sure and strong, over Jongdae’s sides, his neck, his face. It’s taken a lot for them to get where they are, a hard won marriage that could be so much more than the need for children. Jongdae wraps himself around Han like he’s afraid he’s going to disappear, tilting his head to the side as Han leaves a burning trail of kisses along his neck. His mouth is hot, warming Jongdae from the inside out until he has to taste Han again.

The timer goes off in the kitchen and Jongdae heaves out a groan, cursing the interruption. Han is already lifting away, laughing when he sees the unintentional pout settled on Jongdae’s mouth. “We can continue after dinner,” Han promises.

After dinner, however, Jongdae falls asleep.


	6. Six

Jongdae still has his doubts. Everything isn’t miraculously better because the two of them have decided to try and make it work and Jongdae knows trying sometimes isn’t enough. Like with everyone, they have their rough patches; sometimes it’s just too simple to fall back on the way they were before - hurling scathing words at each other until they realize what they’re doing. Apologies spill like water and they weave thin strings of promises to never do it again knowing it’s a promise that might not keep.

It doesn’t happen often, but the lingering effects send slivers of doubt into Jongdae’s resolve, wondering if this is right. Does he want to do this for the rest of his life?

Han had stormed out almost an hour ago - probably to Sehun’s house - and it’s Jongdae’s fault. He knows it is and that’s what hurts the worst. He just couldn’t keep his mouth shut, snapping viciously at Han when he’d turned down sex. Jongdae had been riled up, begging for Han to take him and he wouldn’t. He hadn’t meant to accuse Han of being disinterested because he wasn’t attracted to him, because it must have been better with Sehun. Jongdae had just been so emotional, hurt, out of his head and regret is a quick poison that already has its tendrils around Jongdae’s chest, squeezing the breath out of him.

Jongdae is in the same position he’d been in when Han left - curled defensively in the corner of the couch. It’s not where he’s supposed to be. He wipes furiously at his eyes, finally standing because he’s not the victim. Since the beginning of this entire marriage, Jongdae’s felt like the victim, an unwilling pawn in a miserable game, but he’s not anymore. This isn’t anyone’s fault but his own.

And he means to fix it.

“Call Kyungsoo, audio only,” Jongdae commands and his bracelet beeps, yellow light flashing on the top as it connects.

“Jongdae,” Kyungsoo answers after a moment, “is there a reason why you’re depriving me of your face? You know I like to glare at you directly when you say something stupid.”

“Not tonight,” he replies, walking toward the door to slip on his shoes. “I need to know where Sehun lives.”

Kyungsoo scoffs. “Why do you assume I have that information?”

The front door slides open for him and Jongdae is about to mention that he’s well versed in Kyungsoo’s prowess at getting someone into bed, when he stops short. “Nevermind,” he breathes, hanging up on his best friend. Sitting on the front steps, bathed in moonlight and shivering in the cold air, is Han.

“I thought you were gone,” Jongdae chokes out through the growing knot in his throat.

Han turns to him, eyes rimmed in red. “I never left.”

Jongdae’s foot catches on the lip of the doorway, tripping him in his haste to get to Han and he drops in front of him. “I’m so sorry,” Jongdae begins, hesitating as he raises a hand before slowly sliding it over Han’s cold cheek. “I didn’t mean it. Any of it.” Jongdae fits his arms around Han, wanting nothing more than to chase away the cold.

They sit there, Jongdae unwilling to leave, constantly whispering apologies as silent tears wet the shoulder of Han’s shirt. He’s starting to tremble and he doesn’t know if it’s the cold or the sting of having Han so immune to him. “I don’t want to lose you,” Jongdae whispers helplessly. “I can’t lose you.”

Slowly, carefully, Han shifts in his hold. His arms unfold, finally circling around Jongdae to embrace him. Jongdae lets out a sob of relief, fingers clutching tight to the back of Han’s sweater.

“Don’t ever say that I don’t want you,” Han croaks, his voice raspy and thick. “Don’t even think it.”

Jongdae nods frantically, eager to assure Han that he won’t do it again.

“Come on,” Han rumbles softly, coaxing Jongdae onto his feet without releasing him. “Let’s get you inside before you get sick.”

Jongdae manages a pathetic laugh, more worried that Han has been outside for well over an hour and his lips are an unhealthy shade of purple. It takes very little effort to get Han into a warm bath, Jongdae sitting on the floor beside the tub to watch as the pink returns to Han’s cheeks, his lips an angry red that matches the pads of his fingers.

They pile into bed together after, along with an extra comforter to keep out the chill, and Jongdae falls asleep with Han pressed to his back, his hand resting low on Jongdae’s stomach.

 

Jongdae gets news from an overly excited Jongin that Zitao gave birth to a healthy baby boy, the announcement a little surprising because Zitao wasn’t due for another few weeks, but it’s welcome. There’s this ridiculously large grin on Jongin’s face he can’t seem to erase and Jongdae can tell he’s bouncing on the heels of his feet because the background on the feed is jerking up and down. It’s slightly nauseating.

Jongdae is about to question why Jongin would bother with video, but Jongin is already moving, crouching by a worn out looking Zitao who has a tightly wrapped little bundle in his arms. “My son,” Jongin beams, then looks at Zitao with so much affection that Jongdae feels like an intruder. “ _Our_ son.”

“I’m happy you all look well.”

“You should have seen Jongin earlier,” Zitao jests. “He nearly passed out when I was in labor and they had to rush in another bed.”

Jongin’s face has gone as red as a cherry tomato and he hops away from Zitao who is now laughing in the background. “Don’t pay any attention to him. He was delirious.”

Jongdae swallows down a laugh and says his goodbyes as he listens to the visitors that just invaded their room. Jongin looks a little panicked before he hangs up and Jongdae feels a little sorry for him. But only a little.

There isn’t much there when Jongdae slides his fingers over his stomach, but it’s firmer than it was. It won’t be long before he starts to show now that he’s nearing the three month mark. And from there he knows it won’t be much fun if Joonmyun’s complaining is anything to go by. He’s approaching seven months and he swears his hips make creaking noises when he walks and no matter what he does, he ends up with a tiny foot wedged in his ribs or his bladder. There’s no heat in Joonmyun’s words, always softened by the obvious affection underneath and the way he smooths his hands over his belly.

Jongdae can’t help the nerves that fill his belly when he thinks of his child. It isn’t forgotten that Han’s and his own parents are hoping for a female - a fertile one - from their union. The odds are low and Jongdae worries. He doesn’t want to disappoint, but there’s no way to guarantee gender. And the closer it gets to the sixteen week mark, the more Jongdae wonders if _Han_ would be disappointed with him if their child is a boy.

But he’s too afraid to ask.

 

Minseok helps.

They still go to his office every week, hand-in-hand now, more comfortable knowing the other isn’t going to give up. It’s also simpler to talk to one another, spilling fears and worries without interference. There are some meetings where Minseok speaks three sentences the entire hour, and two of them are his greeting and farewell. The lines of communication are open even if sometimes Jongdae still bristles because his hormones are acting up and he can’t handle criticism.

Today, Jongdae is here alone and he feels small, acutely alone now that the chair opposite him is empty.

“Would you like me to sit there?” Minseok asks, noticing how Jongdae’s eyes keep drifting to the chair Han usually occupies. Jongdae’s the one who requested a personal session, but it’s been ten minutes and he hasn’t managed to get a single word out. So he nods, watching as Minseok stands from his seat and takes up the other, quickly adopting the same position Han does - legs spread and arms resting carelessly on the sides. “Better?”

“I think so.”

Minseok gives him a curt nod, letting him know he can speak at any time. It still makes Jongdae’s stomach bubble unpleasantly.

“I’m afraid,” he begins, hands restless in his lap.

“Of what?”

“Expectations.” Jongdae lets out a deep breath as Minseok remains silent, waiting for further explanation. “Our parents want something I’m afraid we can’t give them. Han and I were married for the purpose of having a fertile girl, but what if it’s not? What if I have a girl who can’t have children? What if I have a boy?”

“What if,” Minseok states plainly. “Seems to me you’re focusing on everyone but you and Han. What do _you_ want?”

“Me?” Jongdae blinks. That’s actually something he’s never thought about before. He’s been too wrapped up in what everyone around him wants that he’s never given pause to weigh in his own opinion.

There’s a life inside him, completely dependent on him to live now _and_ after it’s born. It’s been simple to think of it as a material thing, something inevitable he would have, but that’s putting a value on something that has limitless worth. It’s a _life_ , and Jongdae and Han made it together. It’s a physical representation of who they are together and a wave of affection floods through Jongdae strong and swift, stinging his eyes.

“I just want my baby to be healthy and happy.”

“So fuck everyone else,” Minseok advises. “Be happy. You and Han can give that baby a happy life, so do it and fuck anyone who tries to intervene.”

(“I think I might be a little bit in love with Minseok,” Jongdae announces when he gets home. Han gives him a baleful look from the couch right before pulling Jongdae down on top of him.

“I doubt Minseok can do this as good as I can,” he whispers just before slipping his hand down the front of Jongdae’s pants.)

 

“Stop fidgeting.”

“I’m not fidgeting,” Jongdae grumbles.

“You look like you’re about to throw up.”

“I’m not.”

“I can’t feel my fingers.”

“Fuck, Han, shut _up_ ,” Jongdae snaps, releasing Han’s hand from the death grip he’d had it in and settling for holding his own hand. At least he won’t annoy himself. It’s bad enough they’re in public and Jongdae had nearly thrown up twice this morning already. He doesn’t want to have to deal with Han acting like a piss baby while he’s failing at handling his own nerves too.

Thankfully, the doctor’s office is mostly empty so the pair don’t draw any attention. Jongdae can’t seem to get a cap on his wildly out of control emotional turbulence, and Han is the unfortunate recipient of his ire. Han reaches over and grabs Jongdae’s hand again, squeezing it tight and resting it on his lap despite the glare Jongdae has fixated on him.

“Breathe,” Han suggests, not the least bit deterred by Jongdae’s foul mood. “It won’t be long.”

Jongdae’s chest feels tight, like it might snap across his ribs at any moment and all his insides are going to spill out on the horrible red and blue patterned carpet. After his one on one with Minseok, Jongdae had felt a lot better about things - their future, their baby, their little imperfect family. But now that he knows everyone is at home waiting for news of the baby’s gender, he’s a mess. The small lump that sticks out when he stands up straight - the one he pokes at every now and then to ask how everything’s going in there - is all he can seem to focus on.

When his name is called, Han follows, refusing to relinquish possession of Jongdae’s hand even when Jongdae has to lay on the examination table. Flat on his back, the baby bump is a lot more prominent and Jongdae stares down at it, worrying his lower lip with his teeth.

Doctor Jung sweeps in only a minute later, a bright smile on her face. “Alright boys,” she greets. “Let’s see what we’re having.”

And by that she means the machine over Jongdae’s lower torso is going to take snapshots of every body part of the growing baby _except_ between its legs as Han coos over what he claims is definitely his nose. It just looks like a lump to Jongdae, but he agrees because it makes Han’s eyes light up.

“Are we ready?” Doctor Jung asks, Jongdae momentarily distracted because the baby isn’t holding still.

“Yes,” Han answers without pause.

There’s a moment of tension, Han’s fingers tight between Jongdae’s and they squeeze painfully. Jongdae can’t breathe, watching on the monitor until there’s a good enough angle to catch it. The click of a picture being captured is loud in the room and the screen pauses on it, Jongdae and Han both leaning toward it.

“It’s a boy!”

They make it outside before Han stops Jongdae’s speedy retreat to the car, pulling him back firmly. Jongdae pushes his face to Han’s neck, trying not to let this feeling of helplessness take over. It shouldn’t matter. It _doesn’t_ matter.

“We can always try again,” Han whispers, hugging Jongdae close. “We have plenty of time.”

Jongdae pulls away to peer up at Han. “Is that what you want? Are you upset we aren’t having a girl?”

“No,” Han snaps, almost angrily. “No,” he repeats, less harsh. “I never cared either way. I thought that’s what _you_ wanted. I don’t care what we have.”

“But your parents -”

“Can get over it. Our little boy is going to be loved with or without them.”

Jongdae snorts out a laugh of relief, leaning against Han for support because his knees might actually give out from all that tension bleeding from him so suddenly. “I want you so fucking much right now.” His words are muddled against fabric, but Han hears them anyway.

“Yeah, let’s go home.”

Jongdae laughs as Han drags him all the way to the car.

 

There’s a half-written essay sitting on Jongdae’s terminal about the rise and fall of democracy, comparing the similarities and differences of ancient Rome and The United States circa mid-twenty-second century. The terminal was pushed aside for the sake of food which led directly to a content Jongdae procrastinating in the form of distracting Han.

Han gave in easily, as Jongdae knew he would.

Jongdae is mildly frustrated he can’t press himself as fully to Han as he would like, his belly extending much further than before, but Han does an exceptional job of taking his mind off it. His cock is buried deep inside Jongdae’s ass, letting Jongdae rock his hips in circles, enjoying the way it fills him before lifting and letting himself fall. The fabric on the couch is very forgiving on the knees and Jongdae spreads them further, head thrown back as Han thrusts upward, rattling his entire frame.

Jongdae clutches to the back of the couch with one hand and Han’s hair with the other as Han takes over, fucking into Jongdae at a fast, relentless pace. Han’s fingers dig into Jongdae’s waist, holding his weight up as he slouches lower on the couch to brace his feet, doing all the work as Jongdae takes it with echoing moans and praises.

Jongdae can practically taste the end on his tongue, his grip in Han’s hair tightening and ass clenching around Han’s cock. Just as the pressure is too much, just when Jongdae is ready to burst, Han slows. The crown of his cock holds Jongdae open and he watches as it disappears when he gently brings Jongdae down until he’s sitting on his thighs. The pressure recedes and Jongdae is left panting, trying to catch his breath as Han guides his hips, grinding him further on his cock. It feels amazing.

“Could fuck you like this all day,” Han groans, his hands running up Jongdae’s sides and then down again to pull his cheeks apart and push upward. Jongdae chokes on his next breath, teeth in his lower lip to stifle his pleasured scream.

It’s a sweet torture, one Jongdae becomes addicted to as Han edges him closer and closer to orgasm only to stop and slow it down, bring him in and let him calm. There’s sweat sticking them together, a flush that runs over Han’s cheeks and down his chest to deepen the red around his nipples from where Jongdae had teased them with his teeth earlier. When Jongdae’s thighs ache and he trembles trying to hold his own weight, Han settles him with his back on the couch.

Han fucks him slow, but no less hard. Jongdae keeps his legs hooked around Han’s narrow hips, his ankles crossed even as his knees are pushed further toward his chest. Han doesn’t go as far as he used to, careful of the baby bump, but it’s enough. The angle, the rhythm, the way Han stares down at him through his sweat-soaked fringe is enough.

Jongdae comes with a gasp, mouth open and spine arched off the cushions, his body locking tight around Han. It crests over him, through him, around him until he has nothing left to give and he falls, spent, to the couch. Han pulls out and Jongdae is about to tell him to keep going, but Han is already coming on his thighs, head falling and hips jerking forward as his cock rubs slick over Jongdae’s skin.

Jongdae is positively blissed out, his fingers and the tip of his nose tingling and his muscles jelly. It takes effort to move, but getting his arms around Han to bring him down to kiss him is worth expending the last of his energy. Han’s thumbs skirt around the swell of Jongdae’s belly affectionately as they kiss and Jongdae grins, inexorably pleased.

 

Joonmyun is huge. He has to walk with his hand cradled underneath his belly, and that’s only when he decides something is important enough to get up for. Jongdae watches, more amused than he should be, as Joonmyun rolls off the couch to shuffle toward the kitchen. He knows he’s going to be in the same situation soon, but seeing his always put together brother waddling around is one of the best gifts he could ask for.

With Yifan putting in overtime so he can stay home longer than the standard paternal leave with Joonmyun after the baby is born, Jongdae finds himself spending most days with his brother so he’s not left alone. Joonmyun has repeatedly insisted he’s perfectly capable of taking care of himself and calling for help if anything happens, but neither Yifan or Jongdae were hearing any of it. Besides, a very pregnant Joonmyun cooks a lot of food to nibble on throughout the day and Jongdae enjoys picking at it too.

Now that the baby has started moving around enough for Jongdae to feel it, he purposely snacks on things with a little more sugar just to sit back and smile with his hand over his belly as the baby kicks around. It's also the only way he knows to get the kid to move around so Han can feel it too. And a little extra energy now that he's always so tired is nothing to sneeze at.

Jongdae lazes on the couch, watching as Joonmyun putters around with a few new things for his baby that people have gifted him. With all their family connections and Joonmyun's unwavering ability to make friends with anyone, it's no wonder he has packages arriving all the time. Jongdae doesn't envy him; he'd much rather pick out his own blankets and outfits for his kid. Besides, baby shopping has been a great way to spend quality time with Han.

And yet, when Yifan finally gets home after dark, Jongdae is ushered into his car with a stack of burp cloths and several onesies Joonmyun had insisted he take. Yifan thanks him again before letting Jongdae out, watching until he makes it to the door and inside.

Han is already home, rushing over to Jongdae to take the things from his arms before can even get his shoes off.

"I missed you too," Jongdae laughs as his cheek is assaulted with a sloppy, wet kiss.

Han sets the stack down on the couch and Jongdae watches, slightly distressed, as it topples to the side even as Han is behind him, hands on Jongdae's waist to steer him further into the house. They've made it up the stairs, with a little more effort on Han's part, before Jongdae realizes where they're headed.

Han ushers Jongdae into the empty bedroom nearest to theirs and Jongdae stops in his tracks with a gasp, his hands reaching up to cover Han's. They'd decided a few weeks ago that they preferred having their son in the closest room, but hadn't done anything with the space yet. But now. . . 

The walls are painted pink, the trim done in cream and the curtains to match. There is a crib and a dresser and a decorative cover over the light on the ceiling that throws stars over the walls when Han reaches out and turns it on.

"Our favorite colors,” Han proclaims.

“But your favorite color is white,” Jongdae counters weakly, a lump of emotion caught in his throat.

Han shrugs. “Cream is close enough. Do you like it?”

Jongdae twists in Han's hold, throwing his arms around Han's neck and raising on his toes to kiss him. "I love it," he mumbles between kisses and Han's laughter.

"No defiling the baby's room," Han jests even as he drops several more kisses on Jongdae's lips.

"I'm not defiling the baby's room," Jongdae drawls, curling fingers in Han's hair to hold fast as he takes Han's bottom lip in his teeth teasingly. "I'm defiling _you_."

Han laughs his obnoxiously unattractive laugh and Jongdae scrunches his nose, pulling away. "On second thought, I'll just have dinner." And he traipses off, leaving Han behind in the room he decorated for their son.

 

Jongdae’s not exactly surprised when he’s woken earlier than usual, his bracelet beeping incessantly, echoing in his ears until he slaps a hand on the nightstand to find it. It’s still dark outside when he answers the call, mumbling under his breath that he’s about to castrate whoever it is on the other end.

It’s Yifan’s panicked face that comes into view and, well, it motivates Jongdae into waking up enough to push at Han until he’s stirring. “Doesn’t Joonmyun have that kid on a schedule?” Jongdae grumbles.

Yifan’s distressed laugh has Han sitting up, blinking his eyes as he tries to see through the hair in his face. Jongdae resists the urge to tell him how cute he looks, knowing that as soon as he’s properly awake, Han will retaliate. Instead, Jongdae leans against him, holding Yifan’s image out for the both of them to see.

“If the baby isn’t out, I’m hanging up,” Han grunts even as he slips an arm around Jongdae’s waist.

“Almost,” Yifan says. His eyes are a little wild. Jongdae reasons this is the first time in Yifan’s life that between him and Joonmyun, they don’t have full control of a situation. That has to be quite jarring. “He told me to call you _now_ because it’ll take you long enough to get here.”

Jongdae curls his lip at Yifan while Han lets out a soft snort of amusement. If that’s supposed to be a dig at Jongdae’s perpetually tired state, it’s not funny. But it’s not unexpected either. Joonmyun, while usually a model of patience and looking on the bright side, has become more ornery the closer he gets to his due date. On more than one occasion he’s called Jongdae just to complain about the ache in his hips and how his doctor is a complete idiot because his hip shouldn’t pop like it is with every step he takes. Joonmyun’s doctor soon got fed up enough to put him on bedrest. And that just made Joonmyun angrier.

Jongdae’s been far too amused about it all.

He thinks about nodding off, like Han is doing on his shoulder, but this is a big day. Joonmyun is having a baby. “We have to get up,” Jongdae shouts in Han’s ear, delighted at the shriek that follows. Han sits up fast enough he falls to the other side and nearly off the bed.

Jongdae dutifully swallows down a laugh in favor of not having Han irritated at him so early in the morning. It’s probably going to be a long day.

“You’re lucky you’re so cute,” Han grumbles as he slides out of bed to get ready. Jongdae watches Han’s bare ass as he walks to the bathroom, only moving once it’s out of sight.

It’s not a long ride to the birthing center; Jongdae sits against Han, leaning on him as his eyes threaten to close. Han is having a conversation with the driver that Jongdae can’t hear, and he isn’t inclined to pay attention. The sun isn’t up, which means Jongdae shouldn’t be up unless it’s because he has to use the bathroom or he hasn’t gone to sleep yet.

Han’s fingers slide into Jongdae’s hand, squeezing and soothing and Jongdae wants to murmur in Han’s ear about how much he adores him right now, but that would lead to _actions_ and their driver might not appreciate the show. Instead, Jongdae appreciates the moment, holding on to the here and now because it’s tranquil. It’s soothing.

Their son kicks at the side of his belly and Jongdae rubs over the spot fondly, slightly pushing his fingers against the protrusion so it isn’t as uncomfortable. When he looks over at Han, he’s smiling at Jongdae, the street lights glowing in his eyes. Jongdae’s heart stutters over its next beat. It almost feels like the world’s been put on pause, letting Jongdae linger in this moment when he feels like maybe there’s something a little more than there was yesterday.

It sits heavy in his chest, a constant presence even after they arrive at the birthing center and check in. As they’re being processed, the nurses ensuring they’re on the approved list for Joonmyun, Han stands behind Jongdae, arms around his belly as he slowly rocks them back and forth. Jongdae can’t help but smile, resting his head on Han’s chest, his eyes closing. He’s still so tired; he’s been this tired lump of a pregnant man for months now and he feels useless most of the time.

Han leaves a soft kiss on the back of Jongdae’s neck that tingles its way down Jongdae’s spine. “Come on,” Han guides, taking Jongdae by the hand to follow the nurse leading them back to Joonmyun. They pass dozens of rooms, turning down two hallways before the nurse stops. The electronic name panel has Joonmyun’s and Yifan’s names on it, along with the time of delivery. It hasn’t even been an hour.

The nurse pushes the intercom button, letting them know they have visitors and a buzz sounds from the inside as the lock clicks. The nurse opens the door and moves back for Jongdae and Han to enter. The door closes behind them, but Jongdae doesn’t hear it. He’s fixated on the tiny bundle in Yifan’s large hands; he’s sitting in a rocking chair beside Joonmyun’s bed, grinning like an idiot as Joonmyun looks on fondly.

“Knew you’d take your time,” Joonmyun says. His voice is scratchy and his lips are parched. He’s paler and it takes obvious effort for him to sit up further. But he holds out his arm and Jongdae shuffles forward to sit on the edge of the bed, smiling proudly at his brother.

“How are you?” Jongdae asks, reaching out to brush disheveled strands of Joonmyun’s hair from his forehead.

“I’ll let you know when I figure it out,” Joonmyun laughs. He turns to look over at Yifan, sighing happily.

Jongdae peers over too, struck at the look of pure wonder on Han’s face as he stares down at the baby. Jongdae’s mouth goes dry and his heart trips over itself, wanting to call out for Han and it’s a little frightening. Han hovers over the side of the chair, a smile curling his lips as he takes in the baby. Yifan’s eyes are glassy, rimmed red, and there’s so much heavy emotion pushing on Jongdae’s chest, like an anchor weighing him down.

Joonmyun curls his fingers around Jongdae’s hand, squeezing as he finally takes his eyes off Yifan and their baby to get a good look at Jongdae. “How are you?” Joonmyun asks, thumb stroking over the top of Jongdae’s hand.

Jongdae lets out a soft, quiet laugh. “Don’t worry about me. You have an entire new world of things to worry about.”

“My first worry is I think my husband is broken,” Joonmyun teases. “He can’t speak without crying and he refuses to put Hansol down.”

“Hansol, huh?” Jongdae asks, turning to look at the bundle that seems so tiny in Yifan’s large hands. “I like it.”

Joonmyun fidgets, nose scrunching as he adjusts his gown. Jongdae keeps from laughing because he knows he’s going to be in the same position in a few months time. Joonmyun is clearly uncomfortable and it looks like he’s started chewing on the edges of his nails again - a habit that only surfaces when he’s _really_ stressed.

“Antsy?” Jongdae inquires when Joonmyun lets out a sigh.

“I want to move around, but my doctor won’t let me.”

This time Jongdae doesn’t hold in his laugh, although he does keep it quiet. “Joonmyun, you just gave birth. They’d be idiots to let you walk around so soon.”

“I’ve been immobile for so long,” Joonmyun whines, his other hand hitting against the white blankets on his bed. “I just want to pace the room.”

“And I’ve told you that I’ll sit on you if you try,” Yifan interjects. His voice is thick and raspy, but despite how close he looks to crying, Yifan also looks like he’s serious. Joonmyun pouts.

Jongdae grins, leaning forward to press a kiss to Joonmyun’s temple. “You did a good job,” he whispers.

“You can go over and hold him,” Joonmyun says. “I could use a little affection from Yifan, and if he has his way, Hansol will never end up in his bassinet.”

Jongdae is careful when he stands, gingerly stretching upright before moving. There are several aches he’s gotten used to, working themselves out as he walks over to Yifan.

Yifan stands and it’s Han who helps Jongdae sit in the rocking chair. He seems almost hesitant, staring down at his son one more time, leaving a kiss on Hansol’s forehead, before gently handing him off to Jongdae. Hansol is so light, and completely asleep, swaddled in his yellow blanket. Jongdae cradles him close to his chest, letting his arms rest on his own baby belly. Han crouches beside him and Jongdae leans toward him.

This is what all the fuss is about. There’s a small life in Jongdae’s arms, this tiny body of a sleeping baby boy, and it means the world to so many people. This is what Jongdae and Han have to look forward to. Jongdae can’t help the smile that spreads over his lips. And when he glances at Han, he’s grinning too.

Jongdae trails fingertips over Hansol's nose, cooing under his breath when Hansol twitches, his lips pursing before he relaxes again. He can't help leaning closer, pushing his nose to the baby's skin to breathe him in. Jongdae relaxes completely, eyes tearing up even as Han curves his palm on the back of Jongdae's neck.

Joonmyun and Yifan are in their own little bubble, heads together and voices too low to be heard. Jongdae doesn't want to disturb them, but after having woken up before dawn and with the excitement of welcoming a new member of the family, Jongdae's head feels heavy. As much as he thinks he could safely nap in the rocking chair with Hansol in his arms, he's not about to risk it.

"Would you like to hold him?" Jongdae asks, peering over at Han.

Han is quick to look over at Yifan and Joonmyun, only nodding once Joonmyun tells him it's alright. Jongdae doesn't even try to stand, instead spreading his legs for Han to fit between them and lean down to pluck the infant from his arms. Jongdae stares up at Han, at his _husband_ in wonder.

There's undisguised awe on Han's face, a gentleness Jongdae doesn't see very often. He's careful with Hansol, pushing down the blanket bundled beneath Hansol's face to run his fingers along his tiny chin. Watching Han with Hansol makes Jongdae wistful for when their own son is born.

Jongdae is under no illusions - he's definitely on the road to being in love with Han. And this only shows him how much more there is to discover. With every turn of the page, Han shows Jongdae something new, something that draws him in further. It's a string around his heart that only grows tighter.

There was a time when he would have fought against it, wanting to battle anything that tried to tether him to a man he didn't want. Jongdae wants Han now. He wants him so much he aches with it. Even after they've left the birthing center, Joonmyun now in possession of Hansol and Yifan sitting on the edge of the bed to be with them, Jongdae only wants to be nearer to Han.

"Are you feeling alright?" Han asks when they get home. It's well into morning, but Jongdae still slowly climbs the stairs on a path to their bedroom. A full night's sleep isn't enough to stave off Jongdae's desire for a nap mid-morning, but he was deprived of his full night and his eyes are burning.

Han is behind him, hands light on Jongdae's hips. He worries more now, is careful to make sure Jongdae isn't too reckless or clumsy. It's sweet, albeit sometimes Jongdae snaps at him for being smothering.

"Tired," Jongdae mumbles, letting himself lean back against Han who guides him down the hall and to their room. "A little achy."

"Don't think you're getting a massage out of me," Han jests, his voice rumbling comfortingly in Jongdae's ear.

Jongdae huffs a little, feigning annoyance, but it's not easy when he's so exhausted. When he turns to gingerly sit on the bed, he reaches out for Han. Han fits himself between Jongdae's legs, laughing when Jongdae tugs him down. Jongdae tips back on the bed as Han falls forward, landing on his palms.

Jongdae knows there's a stern chastising coming, so he kisses Han before he can start, distracting him in the best way he knows how.

"You should sleep," Han tells him. "I'll be downstairs."

"Don't cook," Jongdae says.

"I promise," Han laughs, kissing Jongdae one final time. "I'll leave the cooking to you when you get up."

It's not as easy as it used to be - falling asleep. He misses being able to roll onto his stomach and smush his face in a pillow. Now, his belly is too big and it's difficult to find just the right position to sleep in. It wouldn't be nearly as bad, but if he isn't able to fall asleep quickly, he won't be able to. The baby always starts moving when Jongdae is still for long enough. It's become something of a game.

Jongdae is on his side, two pillows beneath his head and the comforter wedged between his thighs when exhaustion takes him over. He rests a hand on his belly and lets out a final, content sigh.

 

Jongdae is going to cancel all incoming calls when he lays down to sleep in the future. He is thoroughly unamused when he's woken for the second morning in a row to the beeping on his bracelet. The only reason he bothers to answer is because it could be an emergency.

"If you're not dying, you will be," Jongdae mutters, refusing to sit up.

The sun is out, filtering through the windows in his bedroom, but Jongdae is facing away from the light with his comforter pulled up to his head and his eyes barely open. Jongdae turns his bracelet sideways so Kyungsoo can see how irritated Jongdae looks.

"It's almost noon," Kyungsoo informs Jongdae, clearly unimpressed.

"And I had a long day yesterday." Jongdae would pout, but Kyungsoo is immune.

"Yes, well,” Kyungsoo begins, fidgeting. Kyungsoo never fidgets. “I need some advice.”

Jongdae sits up this time, eyes narrowed curiously at his best friend. “You know I give shit advice. Why come to me?”

“Because you’re my best friend, asshat,” Kyungsoo gripes. “And because Han is Sehun’s best friend.”

Oh, Jongdae doesn’t have a good feeling about this. He knows Kyungsoo had been attracted to Sehun, but Kyungsoo doesn’t really go into specifics when it comes to his dating life. He’d once told Jongdae he wasn’t going to bother to say anything about someone he was dating unless he could see a future with them. It’s why Kyungsoo is still dating around and Jongdae rarely gets updates.

“Please don’t make me beg,” Jongdae whines. “What did you do?”

Kyungsoo clears his throat before speaking. “Did I tell you Sehun and I are seriously dating?”

“No,” Jongdae squeaks.

“Yes, well, Sehun and I are dating and I got him pregnant.”

Jongdae is fairly certain the distressed laugh that came out of him was rooted in disbelief. “What do you mean you _got_ him pregnant?” 

“I mean he rode my dick until he couldn’t ride it anymore and now he’s pregnant, and I am so not ready to have his parents choking the life out of me.”

Jongdae sighs, running a hand through his tangled hair. His fingers get caught and he gives it up, dropping his arm to the bed. “Kyungsoo,” Jongdae begins, wishing Kyungsoo was physically here so he could hug him, “are you worried about his parents because you want to _be_ with Sehun or because you don’t?”

“Ouch, right for the jugular,” Kyungsoo accuses. “I _like_ Sehun. I really, really like him. And I’m pretty sure he likes me too.”

“Pretty sure?”

“An hour after we found out he was pregnant, he was pulling up color swatches for our wedding,” Kyungsoo deadpans.

“And how did that make you feel?”

Kyungsoo doesn’t answer for a while, and Jongdae lets the silence sit between them. “We haven’t been together long,” Kyungsoo confesses. “But, I mean - the idea of marrying him is kind of nice.”

“It’s what you’ve been looking for,” Jongdae reminds him.

“Yes, but this is backwards! I don’t want anything to happen to Sehun because of this. I can’t protect him if we’re not legally bound to each other.”

“So run off and get married. You’re both of age. Then tell his parents after you’re legally married.”

“Wow,” Kyungsoo says, blinking. “You really do give shit advice.”

Jongdae wrinkles his nose. “Hey, you’re the one who came to me, remember? Shit advice or not, I’m what you’re stuck with.”

Kyungsoo sighs. “I’m calling Han. Give me his number.”

“No.”

“Then hand me over to him,” Kyungsoo instructs.

Jongdae sticks out his tongue. “No.”

“Why are you being so _difficult_?” Kyungsoo huffs. This situation really has Kyungsoo some kind of way. He’s never this emotional.

“I have a foot lodged under my rib, trying to dislocate it into my appendix. I am allowed to be cranky.”

“Just push the foot out of the way and get over it. I’m having a crisis!”

“You’re having a life moment,” Jongdae chuckles, rubbing the top of his belly, because he wasn’t kidding about that foot. “One you’ve been wanting for a long time. Have you actually sat back and let it seep in? Kyungsoo, you’ve always wanted a family and one has just landed on your dick - I mean lap.”

“Why do you make sense?” Kyungsoo grumbles. “You were supposed to suggest something outlandish and crazy and I’d go crawling off to someone else for _real_ advice.”

“You wound me,” Jongdae gasps, hand over his heart. “See if I ever help you again!”

“I’m coming over.”

“What.”

“I’m gonna cook and I’m bringing Sehun. Is Han home?”

Jongdae sighs. “Should be.”

“Do you not know?”

“I’m still in _bed_ , remember?”

“Well, put on pants - or not, I don’t care. We’ll be there in fifteen.”

Jongdae tosses his bracelet on the side table with a whine, but sits there for another minute, fingers working over the tiny baby foot under his ribs before he stands. His spine pops in several places and he feels like one of those advertisements that run on the holos, with the pregnant one waddling, a hand on their back for support as they move slowly. He’s not quite that big yet, but he feels it. He cringes at the ache in his hips, taking the stairs down one at a time, carefully. There’s noise in the house, which means Han is home.

“Hey!” Jongdae calls out, still on the stairs. “Kyungsoo and Sehun are coming over!”

The noise stops and Jongdae hears footsteps instead, Han appearing a moment later. He looks so soft in his cotton pajama pants and a loose tank top, his hair still fluffed from sleep. Jongdae wants to melt into him, but it’s not the time for that.

“They’re coming over together?” Han asks, reaching out to hold Jongdae’s hips as he makes it down the last few steps.

Jongdae presses against Han as much as he can, stealing a kiss. “Yeah, they’re already on their way over.”

Han peers down. “You’re not wearing pants.”

“And I won’t be.” Jongdae pats Han on the butt fondly. “They have bigger things to worry about anyway.”

Han lets Jongdae cling to him as they head toward the living room. “Do you want me to heat up some leftovers?” Han offers.

“Kyungsoo said he would cook,” Jongdae says with a grin.

Han’s fingers run up the length of Jongdae’s spine. “Yes, but why are they coming over _together_?”

Jongdae snorts. “Isn’t Sehun your best friend?”

“He’s been distracted lately. And whenever he gets a boyfriend, he always goes all in, so it’s not uncommon to not hear from him for a while.”

Jongdae stares up at Han, head tilted, just waiting for it to click.

“Oh,” Han whispers a moment later. “Sehun and Kyungsoo? I didn’t see that coming.”

“Really? Kyungsoo nearly ate him alive the same day they met.”

“I just figured he was trying to make me feel unwanted,” Han grumbles.

Jongdae laughs, even if he doesn’t mean to. “That implies Kyungsoo cares enough, and he doesn’t. He’ll come around eventually though. As long as you’re nice to me.”

“I happen to think I’m _very_ nice to you,” Han murmurs, his hands running down to cup Jongdae’s ass.

It’s very distracting. Jongdae runs his nose along Han’s neck, arms resting on Han’s shoulders as he raises to his toes. When Han kisses him, Jongdae curves as much as he can into it. His belly presses gently between them, the baby rolling to one side. Jongdae inhales sharply and Han smiles against his lips.

Han sinks slowly to his knees, lifting Jongdae’s shirt to run his hands along the bump. His eyes flicker up to Jongdae’s face as he kisses his belly. Jongdae thinks he’s free falling, struggling to find something to grab, and the only thing in reach is Han. Sometimes Jongdae wishes he wasn’t too hesitant to reach out and hold on to him.

The sound of the doorbell rings through the house. Han groans, lowering Jongdae’s shirt before raising to his feet. “You,” he commands Jongdae, “sit. I’ll get the door.”

Jongdae wedges himself in his favorite corner of the couch, resting his back on the curve of the cushion. The baby is still moving, apparently trying to find a new comfortable position. Jongdae has to lean back on the couch, lifting his hips until the baby finally stops. Kyungsoo cruises through the room without pause, on a course for the kitchen. Sehun shuffles in after, stopping when he sees Jongdae.

“You’re not wearing pants,” Sehun comments.

Han comes up behind Sehun, pinching his side. “Just don’t look,” he tells him. “He’s not going to put any on, so go on and get used to it.”

Sehun shrugs it off, sitting on the other couch across from Jongdae. A gentle pressure pushes on Jongdae’s chest when Han walks over to sit next to Jongdae instead of with Sehun. He leans his head on Han’s shoulder, smiling when Han takes his hand and laces their fingers.

“So,” Han begins. “Kyungsoo.”

Sehun licks his lips, his eyes flickering in the direction of the kitchen where Kyungsoo is already making a racket. “Yeah,” Sehun answers.

“You could have warned me that you’re dating my husband’s best friend.”

“I was a little preoccupied with your husband’s best friend’s dick.”

Jongdae snorts in amusement. “I like you,” he chuckles. “You can stay.”

“Yes, stay,” Han says, his eyes narrowing. “But _why_ are you here?”

“Because it was either watch Kyungsoo panic clean my place, or let him panic cook for Jongdae. You know I don’t like my organized mess to be touched, so this was the better option.”

That is not at all surprising. Kyungsoo’s probably been in panic-mode since they found out Sehun was pregnant. He’s actually surprised Sehun is still around him; Jongdae knows how crazy a panicking Kyungsoo can be. If Sehun can put up with that, then Kyungsoo has probably found the right one.

“What did you do to make him panic?” Han laughs.

Sehun scrunches his nose. “What makes you think it was anything _I_ did?” Sehun questions.

“Because I know you,” Han states matter-of-factly.

“Not this time,” Sehun huffs, crossing his arms over his chest as a pout settles on his lips.

Jongdae finds this all very amusing, and informative. He hasn’t had the opportunity to watch the way Sehun and Han interact with each other before. In fact, he doesn’t really know much of Han’s behavior with people he’s comfortable with. There is so much still to learn, so much Jongdae doesn’t know about Han. It should worry him that he feels so deeply for Han despite their short time together and how little they know of each other.

Jongdae ponders it as he watches the way Han and Sehun laugh with each other, much in the same way Jongdae and Kyungsoo act. Theirs is a comfortable relationship, and Jongdae finds himself drawn in by the sparkle in Han’s eyes and the way Han clasps tighter to Jongdae’s hand when he laughs, leaning toward him.

It’s still not easy to get over the past, but Jongdae is trying. He doesn’t feel animosity toward either of them anymore. The entire situation had been a clusterfuck from the beginning. All they can do now is build and grow on more fertile soil.

When Kyungsoo makes his appearance, Jongdae sees the way he looks at Sehun, and he notices how bright Sehun smiles back. Sehun tips his head for a kiss and Kyungsoo gives him one, fingers brushing down Sehun’s cheek.

“I thought you said he was panicking,” Han announces, his stare on Kyungsoo. “That doesn’t look like panic.”

“That’s because he’s not panicking because of me,” Sehun sighs.

“I’m not panicking!” Kyungsoo exclaims. But it’s obvious he kind of is.

“And what are you not panicking about?” Han wheedles.

Kyungsoo glances between Jongdae and Han, rolling his eyes when Jongdae shrugs helplessly. If Kyungsoo is expecting Jongdae to tell Han for him, he’s got another thing coming. Jongdae is in self preservation mode. Kyungsoo looks at Sehun next, and Sehun has his eyebrows raised, clearly amused.

“This is great,” Kyungsoo huffs. “My best friend and my boyfriend are conspiring against me.”

“Will someone just tell me what’s going on?” Han demands. Jongdae tightens his grip on Han because he’s comfortable and he wants Han to stay put. He’s pleased when Han relaxes back to where he was, letting Jongdae use him as a pillow.

“Sehun’s pregnant.” Kyungsoo has his arms folded over his chest and his hip cocked, a look on his face that dares Han to say anything to him about it. Jongdae finds it totally hot.

“That’s -” Han falls silent, blinking between Kyungsoo and Sehun. “I wasn’t expecting _that_.”

Sehun tugs on Kyungsoo’s arm until Kyungsoo sits beside him. Sehun curls himself close to Kyungsoo who fits his arm around Sehun’s waist. It’s adorable and Jongdae resists the urge to coo at them.

“Is he okay?” Kyungsoo asks, staring at Han who is still silent, his expression blank.

Sehun snorts. “Let his brain reset and he’ll be fine.”

“Wait,” Jongdae grunts, shifting his position. “I got this.” He maneuvers his way around until he’s straddling Han’s lap. He rests his palms on Han’s cheeks and leans in, leaving a kiss on his lips. It takes another two kisses for Han to respond, but he does it with a lazy grin and a fond hum.

“Thanks,” Han breathes. “I needed that.”

Jongdae wiggles his hips, and Han gasps, grabbing Jongdae’s hips to stop him. Jongdae just laughs, content to stay where he is. He only bothers moving when the timer on the oven goes off. Jongdae lets Kyungsoo peel him off Han, leaving Han and Sehun alone to talk as Jongdae focuses on eating.

“Han going to be alright?” Kyungsoo asks, fidgeting nervously.

Jongdae eyes him. “You sound like you care.”

“Sehun cares,” Kyungsoo sighs. “So I care.”

“You’re really serious about this, aren’t you? About him.”

“I am.”

Jongdae pulls Kyungsoo into a hug and Kyungsoo’s arms fit around him, holding tight.

“Five minutes,” Sehun whines from the doorway. “Five minutes and I find you in the arms of another man.”

Kyungsoo pulls away from Jongdae, arms out until Sehun is burrowing his way into them, pleased with himself. Han smacks Sehun lightly on the butt on his way to Jongdae.

“Everything good?” Jongdae whispers in Han’s ear, standing on his toes as Han circles an arm around his shoulders.

Han is smiling, his nose bumping against Jongdae’s. “Yeah,” he answers. “Now let’s get some food in you.” He pauses, turning to where Kyungsoo and Sehun are standing, rocking together in the middle of the kitchen. “Time to eat before Jongdae eats _me_.”

“That’s hardly the worst thing that could happen,” Kyungsoo mutters as he goes for the plates.

Han goes pale and Sehun just looks besotted. Jongdae thinks it’s all great.

 

“So how are we today?” Minseok begins, closing the door behind them after Han and Jongdae walk inside his office.

“Sehun is pregnant,” Han blurts out.

Minseok pauses, his tablet in hand and eyes darting back and forth between Han and Jongdae. It takes a moment for him to recover, walking over and taking his usual seat as Han and Jongdae do the same. “I’m going to assume that since Han is alive, this isn’t the consequences of a repeat offense.”

“Oh!” Jongdae exclaims, eyes wide. “No. No, Sehun is with Kyungsoo, my best friend.”

Minseok turns his attention to Han. “And why was this so important you just had to announce it?”

Han licks over his lips, shrinking in his seat. “I don’t know.”

Minseok keeps his eyes on Han. “I think you do.”

Han looks decidedly uncomfortable. Jongdae finds himself waiting for an answer, a curl of trepidation in his stomach. Han's eyes flicker over to Jongdae, and back to Minseok. He opens his mouth, but closes it again.

"I thought it was important - I thought -" Han runs both his hands through his hair, breathing out slowly. "We've all moved on with our lives. Jongdae and I. Sehun and Kyungsoo. We're - we've gotten to a healthy place now."

"You want to make it clear the past is behind you," Minseok offers.

"Yes," Han breathes.

"It's important to you that Jongdae knows this."

Jongdae doesn't know why his chest feels so heavy when Han's gaze settles on him. "It is."

"Why?" Jongdae whispers. His hand flutters down, resting on the curve of his growing belly.

"Because you're all that matters to me now. You and our son. And with how crazy we started, and everything that's happened since, I'm afraid you might not know. For certain."

Jongdae is not crying. The tears that well in his eyes and slide down his cheeks are because of hormones, because he's an unstable mess. But that weight on his chest seems to lift away and all he's left with is indigestion and a baby who starts moving around.

Minseok is smiling when he looks over at Jongdae. "Well I think that's a fantastic way to start today. Anything else happen?"

"Joonmyun had his baby," Han says, pulling the attention off Jongdae.

Jongdae sends him a weak smile of thanks. He needs a moment to compose himself, only half listening to Han recount the details of dragging a grumpy Jongdae around and getting to hold the baby for the first time.

Jongdae is still a mess when they leave and he falls easily back into Han’s arms just outside the building. “I meant it,” Han whispers.

Jongdae’s throat is clogged even after he swallows. All he can do is nod. He’s grateful for Han holding on to him as they make their way home, enjoying the warming weather together. They’d decided walking would be good for Jongdae, to make sure he’s still getting enough exercise now that he isn’t physically going to most of his classes. Jongdae had regretted it two blocks from the house.

The only good thing about the walk is Han doesn’t complain about the way Jongdae goes limp when they get home, falling like a wet noodle on the couch, groaning about his hips. Han is even considerate enough to help Jongdae wiggle out of his pants, folding them over the back of the couch in case there’s any reason Jongdae may need to put them on again. Jongdae wants to avoid that at all costs.

A few minutes later, Han joins Jongdae on the couch, letting Jongdae snuggle against him as their son decides it’s a great time to wake up. Jongdae lays there, eyes closed as Han plays with his belly, content in a way he never thought he’d be.

 

Jongdae is eight months pregnant when he realizes that he is without a doubt, one hundred and ten percent, completely in love with Han. It’s not as jarring as he thought it would be.

Yifan and Joonmyun are over and Jongdae is leaning against the bar, his legs spread to keep some of the weight off his hips as his son practices gymnastics on his ribs. Joonmyun is complaining at great lengths about their father who is trying to get Joonmyun back to work in no time. Joonmyun is passively resisting, but Jongdae knows the passive is going to evolve soon. Joonmyun got his stubbornness from their father. It will be an interesting tug of war to watch.

Yifan and Han are in the living room; Yifan is here to offer Han a job. Jongdae had been skeptical when Yifan brought it up, but he clarified it wasn’t anything to do with the actual hydroponics gardens. He’d be in an office, working with the teams that determine how the food is distributed. Yifan had launched into a detailed description and Jongdae had walked away, leaving them to it.

Jongdae sighs, feeling stretched too thin. He’d finally given up on school a month ago. There was no point if he still hadn’t figured out what he wanted to do. Plus, he’s coming around to the idea of staying home with his son, no longer seeing it as some mandatory thing, but as a privilege. He’ll be there for everything, and the thought makes him happy. Now all he needs to do is pop the kid out already.

Jongdae feels like he’s been pregnant _forever_.

Han comes puttering into the kitchen, Hansol cradled in his arms, and that’s when Jongdae’s heart throbs, his mouth dry and emotions careening face first into a Han shaped wall. Han is cooing at Hansol as the baby grabs his mouth, trying to twist his lips. Han laughs, his face so _ugly_ and Jongdae sighs fondly.

“Did you need me to take him?” Joonmyun offers, already shifting away from where he was scrounging in the cabinets.

“No,” Han answers, his attention still on Hansol. “We’re just walking.”

Jongdae watches as Han lifts Hansol to prop on his shoulder, his hands supporting the baby carefully as the pair make their way around to the dining room.

“Careful,” Joonmyun warns, a soft, knowing smile aimed at Jongdae. “You might actually feel something.”

Jongdae huffs, standing up cautiously. “Just for that, I’m going to sit on your husband.” He only half means it - if Yifan is on the couch, he’s fair game. Everyone knows the couch is Jongdae’s territory.

“Han!” Joonmyun calls from the kitchen. “Let’s trade babies!”

Jongdae is nearly to the couch when Han comes rushing in, arms around Jongdae to veer him to the other couch. Jongdae fake pouts as much as he can before laughing. Han spins him in his arms and he’s still got that stupid ugly smile on his face, but Jongdae loves it. He really, truly loves it.

He doesn’t say it though. Realizing it is one thing, but voicing it isn’t something he’s ready for. So he holds on to that feeling, letting it carry him on the waves.

He’s probably a little more clingy, a little less likely to bite off a sarcastic remark, but that could also be from how tired he is after having such a long day. Guests are exhausting. Jongdae is only too happy when he finally gets to lay in bed, Han braced over him as he nudges his cock slowly into Jongdae’s body.

Jongdae lets out a sigh, eyes closing and head falling to the side.

“Hey,” Han murmurs, his nose poking Jongdae’s cheek. “If you go to sleep on me, I’m cutting you off.”

Jongdae whimpers, closing his legs tight around Han. “You wouldn’t,” he huffs. “And I’m not going to sleep.” He clenches around Han’s cock, pleased at the low groan that follows. “I’m luxuriating.”

“On my dick.”

Jongdae hums. “It’s a good place to be.”

“Jongdae,” Han whines, sliding a hand down to Jongdae’s thigh, raising it higher. He slides further into Jongdae and they both moan. “Can I please move?”

“It’s so cute when you beg,” Jongdae teases. Han’s nose scrunches and he looks too hot for Jongdae to resist, honestly. Jongdae loops his arms around Han’s neck and tilts his head. “Whenever you’re ready . . . “

“ _You_ ,” Han starts, rocking back and then thrusting forward, hard but only just, “are going to be my death.”

Jongdae has to grip Han’s arms, thighs tightening on Han’s hips. “If it’s like this, it’ll be so worth it,” he breathes.

Han curls fingers in Jongdae’s hair, tipping his head back to kiss him. Jongdae’s moan is _loud_. He knows Han is holding back, that he doesn’t want to hurt him, especially when Jongdae’s hips have been aching bad enough to wake him from a dead sleep. And Jongdae adores Han for it. He adores everything about him - even the asshole parts. (Sometimes especially the asshole parts.)

Jongdae is too sensitive to last long, and he wheezes out an apology as he comes far sooner than he anticipated. Han hiccups out a laugh, but he slips free of Jongdae without protest. “Come here,” Jongdae demands, breathless, reaching out to stop Han from waddling off into the bathroom.

“Dae, you don’t -”

“Just give me your dick,” he says, and Han obeys. He lays beside Jongdae on the bed, immediately leaning in to kiss him as Jongdae fits his fingers around Han’s slick cock. It’s not the best handjob he’s given, but Han doesn’t seem to mind. He thrusts into the ring of Jongdae’s fingers, making these quiet noises that are muffled by Jongdae’s mouth. Jongdae tightens his grip and he feels victorious when Han comes only seconds later, shuddering and gripping Jongdae’s side to keep steady.

“The bedspread is wet,” Han grumbles.

Jongdae makes an amused noise, too tired to really care. “Just sleep on this side with me,” Jongdae offers.

“But you kick!” Han complains, looking unenthusiastic about the situation.

Jongdae levels him with a glare. “Now you know how it feels.” Han laughs, tipping back almost enough to fall off the bed. “Come on,” Jongdae grunts, “take me to the shower before I pass out.” Jongdae holds out his arms and Han helps him off the bed, graciously walking him to the shower.

Jongdae’s eyes linger on Han’s ass as he gets the water started, slowly dragging up. He sighs, smiling. He’s well and truly sunk.

 

It’s too fucking hot outside.

Jongdae has a tiny sun growing inside him, radiating all this heat, and now he has to walk outside in the summer, sweating buckets just for a little exercise that doesn’t involve Han’s dick. He’s terribly put out about it. Kyungsoo is beside him, a hand resting on Jongdae’s lower back. He keeps saying it’s practice for when Sehun gets big.

Jongdae feels _enormous_. “I don’t know how people do this more than once,” he complains. His joints ache, his center of balance is gone and he can’t sleep at all anymore. If he’s not crawling to the bathroom to pee, the baby is trying to wedge under his ribs. And the rare time Jongdae’s bladder is empty and the baby is asleep, he can’t get comfortable. He’s become quite the grouch. Han says it’s cute. Jongdae told him to go fuck himself.

“Who thought doing laps around the neighborhood was a good idea?” Jongdae whines.

He swears Kyungsoo has tuned him out completely. It probably has something to do with Sehun not being attached to his hip. Kyungsoo’s mother is out with Sehun, _bonding_. Kyungsoo’s and Sehun’s parents had all been unhappy the pair had gotten married in secret, announcing their marriage and the pregnancy all at once during a joint family dinner. That afternoon had been chaos. Jongdae had been front row, and he still laughs at the memory.

Jongdae hasn’t seen Kyungsoo as much; he’s been house hunting, trying to find something close to Jongdae’s place. Jongdae has been very supportive of this decision.

A dull pain spreads below the swell of Jongdae’s belly and he stops, hand cradling his stomach as he breathes. His entire belly tightens and it’s uncomfortable, but not painful. He’s been experiencing it for a month now, and the doctor assures him it’s alright. It’s the painful ones he needs to watch out for. He’s due any day now, and it has Jongdae and Han both on high alert.

“You alright?” Kyungsoo asks, a comforting hand on Jongdae’s wrist. There’s worry etched on his face.

“Yeah,” Jongdae forces. “Nothing to worry about. I’m just ready for this kid to get out. There’s only so big I can get without exploding.”

Kyungsoo chuckles. “Just don’t sneeze,” he teases. “You might give birth on the sidewalk.”

“I don’t even care where it happens,” Jongdae groans. “As long as it _happens_.” Jongdae takes another few steps forward, then stops. “This is far enough.”

Kyungsoo just looks at him. “We’ve made it a block and a half.”

“And my hips are _rattling_.”

Kyungsoo sighs heavily, but turns around with him, aiding Jongdae as he waddles back to his house. They’re halfway back when his belly tightens again. But this time it hurts. He sucks in a sharp breath, gripping Kyungsoo’s hand as his mind scrambles to remember what to do. He doesn’t want to cause alarm if there’s nothing to be alarmed about.

Kyungsoo looks worried, but doesn’t press. Jongdae walks even slower, refusing to stop even when another wave hits. He wants to be home. He wants to wash the sweat away and put on one of Han’s shirts and curl up on the couch. The idea is enough to entice him into going faster.

“Han!” Kyungsoo calls as soon as they’re inside.

Han rounds the corner, looking stupidly handsome and Jongdae means to smile at him, but he grimaces instead, a slice of pain killing the moment. Han’s eyes immediately grow wide as he rushes over.

“It’s nothing,” Jongdae assures them both. “They’re just more painful than they were this morning.”

“We’re supposed to time them when they get painful,” Han reminds him. “Come on, let’s get you on the couch.”

“Not until I shower,” Jongdae demands. “I smell horrible and I itch and if I’m having this baby today, I’m going to do it while smelling _amazing_.”

“I’d do what he says,” Kyungsoo offers.

Han looks like he’s about to protest, his eyes focused on Jongdae’s belly.

“Come on,” Jongdae coaxes, reaching out for Han, “shower with me. You can make sure I’m not going to burst while you wash my legs.” Jongdae glances at Kyungsoo. “I haven’t seen my dick in two months, and I can’t bend over at all. Remember this for when Sehun gets big.”

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. “Do you need me to stick around?”

“Go home,” Jongdae says. “I’m sure you’re dying to pace circles around the couch until Sehun gets back.”

Kyungsoo wrinkles his nose, but doesn’t deny it. He gives Jongdae a hug before slipping out, leaving Jongdae grinning at Han.

It’s nice to be spoiled. Jongdae gets to lean on the tile, his head fuzzy as Han soaps him up and scrubs the sweat and dirt from him. Han is very sweet about it, even when Jongdae flicks water in his face. He steals a few kisses too, fingers tapping on Han’s jaw until he gives in.

Jongdae is still contracting. Each one feels minutely worse than the one before. Han is meticulous about keeping the time. It’s sweet. Jongdae idly thinks they should both be panicking, but they’re not. He pulls on one of Han’s airy tshirts, resting his hands on his belly. It’s not going to be long. Even if it’s not today, it will be very soon.

They have everything they need - cloth diapers, clothes, all the furniture in the baby room and the bassinet sitting in the corner of their bedroom that they’ll wheel over to the bed after the baby is born. The only thing left is the actual baby.

Jongdae does settle himself on the couch as Han gets the house in order. He makes sure all the dishes are washed, the laundry is folded and put away, and Jongdae’s bag is waiting by the door. Han breezes through the living room, backtracking a moment later.

“Should I get out a towel to put under you, just in case?”

Jongdae’s glare is enough for him to retract the offer. A moment later, Jongdae stiffens. “Ow!” he yells, loud enough for Han to hear. It’s his signal that Jongdae is contracting.

He remembers Joonmyun talking about how he walked through contractions. Jongdae can’t imagine being crazy enough for that. He stays sitting, waiting.

It’s the calm before the storm.

It’s after dark when Jongdae lets Han convince him it’s time to go to the birthing center. The contractions are less than a minute apart and they really hurt. Jongdae grits his teeth through each one, relying on Han to guide him out to the car - borrowed from Yifan. He’s just thankful it’s not so hot outside anymore.

They’d called ahead; the nurses are waiting for them when they arrive and Jongdae is still expecting panic to hit him. This is a monumental moment in his life - one he’d been dreading before things with Han stabilized - and there should be _something_.

A twinge of fear alights in Jongdae’s chest when they get him into his room. He’s surrounded by equipment and professionals who all assure him everything is going to be fine as they check his vitals, the intensity of his contractions. Han is sitting at his side, his hand secure in Jongdae’s and he understands.

He’s not panicking because Han is here. He’s _right here_. And Han is going to be a good father. He’s going to be there; he’s assured Jongdae many times over. Jongdae looks at Han, offering him a small smile. Han returns the smile, smoothing over Jongdae’s knuckles with his thumb.

The next contraction hits and Jongdae groans, squeezing his eyes shut.

“I’m right here,” Han whispers, his voice breaking, but his grip on Jongdae’s hand strong, unwavering. “I’ve got you.”

 

There’s a lot Jongdae wanted out of life. Even if he wasn’t sure what it was, it didn’t make the desire any less real.

He used to think he’d been robbed of his future. He used to hate everyone who played a part in pushing him down a path he didn’t want to take. It’s hard to reconcile with that hatred even if Jongdae has accepted and embraced his life now.

It’s not what he wanted. Back then.

Han is definitely not what he wanted. And yet, somehow, they’ve turned the tables. Against all odds - and Jongdae’s personality - they’ve made a family together. Jongdae supposes the scenic route they took on their way to this moment had it’s use. He thinks they’re stronger for it. All the animosity they’d been holding in had poured out in the beginning, leaving gaping holes that could only be filled with happier memories.

Jongdae stares down at the bundle in his arms, at the cupid’s bow of his son’s mouth, and the small scratch on his cheek because they hadn’t gotten the mittens on his hands before he grabbed at his tiny face.

“Taeyong,” Jongdae whispers, tears welling in his eyes.

Jongdae feels full to bursting. There’s so much love in his heart, so much affection for his son and for Han, who still hasn’t left his bedside. Taeyong yawns, and Han grins, his fingers smoothing through the dark strands of their son’s hair.

“You still feeling alright?” Han asks. He keeps checking on Jongdae, making sure he doesn’t need anything.

Jongdae just tightens his hold on Taeyong. “I’m perfect.”

 

**18 Months Later**

Jongdae is absolutely jealous of Jongin’s backyard. It’s large enough to have a greenhouse off to the side - one that’s full, unlike the one Jongdae and Han have - while leaving a wide open space for the kids to play in. Jongdae has one eye on Taeyong as he attempts to run after Hansol who is darting on slightly steadier feet toward Hakyeon, Jongin and Tao’s son.

Jongdae’s other eye is on Han who slunk down onto the ground as soon as they arrived and hasn’t moved. He seems content in the grass, leaning back on his hands with his legs crossed. Jongdae takes a moment to admire his husband, even if said husband makes the ugliest faces when the baby kicks.

Han is six months pregnant. And he’s stunning. Jongdae can’t seem to keep his eyes - or his hands - off him.

They’re having a girl this time. It’s too early to tell if she’s fertile or not, but neither Jongdae nor Han care. Their parents, however, are all in an uproar, which is why they keep slipping off to Jongin’s place on the weekends to get away from it all. It’s hard to have any sort of normalcy when their parents keep dropping by unannounced.

Zitao walks out with a tray of freshly sliced fruit, weaving his way around everyone until he gets to Han. He sits down next to him, holding the tray out for Han before anyone else gets anything. Han goes right for the watermelon, grinning and talking with Tao as Jongdae turns his attention back to Taeyong.

Taeyong has abandoned his chase for Hansol, and is now stumbling after a butterfly, babbling to himself as he goes. Jongdae walks over, sitting himself on the ground beside Han once Zitao finally gets up, letting others have a chance at the food. Jongdae rests his head on Han’s shoulder, sighing fondly at their son.

“What do you think about three?” Jongdae asks.

“Unless you’re volunteering for it, don’t talk to me,” Han gripes.

Jongdae laughs, tilting his head to leave a kiss on Han’s cheek. “You can impregnate me any day,” he teases.

Han laughs, stealing Jongdae’s mouth for a better kiss. They’re interrupted when Taeyong finds his way to them, flopping right into Jongdae’s lap. He pushes his head beneath Jongdae’s chin and wraps his short arms around Jongdae’s neck. He lets out a loud yawn and goes weightless.

Jongdae adjusts Taeyong’s position, getting comfortable as his son nods off after playing hard. Han reaches over and rubs Taeyong’s back, lulling him to sleep faster.

“Let’s wait until after this one to think about number three,” Han whispers.

Jongdae grins. “Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I would like to thank everyone who stuck around for this entire story. I spent two years working on this and I am grateful for all your comments. I know it's been quite the ride, but I hope all of you enjoyed yourselves. I know this isn't my usual happy fic, which is why I hesitated to post it, but seeing all your comments has eased my nerves. Thank you and I hope to bring you better, longer stories in the future!


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